


A gentleman's tale

by Anna_Charmie



Series: The Charmie Decameron [8]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Charmie - Fandom
Genre: AU, Butterflies, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Victorian Age, holiday on the seaside, innocent timmy, love but also fun but also a little smut, mention of violence, misunderstood Armie, please keep in mind this is FICTION, shy timmy, smoking cigars, this is fiction guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29131551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Charmie/pseuds/Anna_Charmie
Summary: In 1838, Captain Hammer comes back home in England after being a soldier almost his whole life. His bad reputation precedes him: his recklessness and cold-blood on the battlefield earned him the title of “Lucifer's left hand”. But the rumors about his misbehavior go far beyond the battlefield... Timothée is the youngest son of Lord Chalamet: he was raised in a bubble by an over-protective, very religious family. It would be an easy task for the Captain to seduce the young man. But maybe he's looking for more than an easy conquest: he's looking for redemption.***Please, fellow writers: let's keep this fandom alive! I know it's a mess out there but let's try not to give up our stories, they can make a difference in people's lives!***
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: The Charmie Decameron [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010889
Comments: 224
Kudos: 128





	1. A man's reputation

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! New story :) Originally this story was a little bit different, darker, but it was definitely something we DON'T need right now, so I turned it into a brighter, more romantic story :) there will be smut somewhere along the way, I promise, and an happy ending as always. If you want to go deep into the atmosphere of the story, you can watch the magnificent "Gentleman Jack" on HBO, it's the same period and kinda same place (England countryside). I hope you like it and remember: this is just FICTION, if it's uncomfortable for you to read someone's name you can swap it with another name you find more suitable, I won't get offended, I promise ;)

Chapter 1: a man's reputation

_Sholden, England, 1838_

“Holy Graal, if this isn't the most tedious ball I've ever been!” Saoirse grunts, while stuffing a couple of salmon canapés into her mouth; “At least the food is decent” she adds, munching gracelessly. An elderly lady stares at her with clear disconcert, and the girl makes a tiny bow and a weird grin, trying to smile politely with her mouth full of food. She only makes it worse: the elderly lady leaves the buffet table with a scandalized snort. Ah, these young people! Totally lacking common courtesy.

A few steps further, her cousin, Timothée, is silently looking around in the room: he never feels comfortable at this kind of public events, being quite unable to engage in conversations of any sort with people he barely knows. He definitely prefers to spend time in the greenhouse of his estate, studying his plants, observing his butterflies and his ants, pondering about life and the meaning of it. His father, Lord Chalamet, is a fervent man of church, and he taught his son that life has a purpose only if we follow the word of God, so the boy does his best to make his parents glad and proud of him. Tonight, they sent him to the ball in the estate of Lord Kingstone only because his cousin Saoirse was invited by miss Kingstone, but it would have been quite imprudent to send a young, unmarried girl alone at someone else's house. The world is full of scoundrels who could take advantage of her in any horrible way. So the most clever thing to do was send Timothée with her to be her  _chaperon._

Lord Kingstone's palace is rather splendid, with high painted ceilings and huge windows, golden candelabra and marble floors. The ball room is packed with people from the aristocracy and the high society of Sholden, and a little music band is playing an  _allegro_ for the dancing couples. This kind of events are perfect for a young girl who is looking for a suitable husband. Unfortunately, getting married is the last thought in Saoirse's mind.

“Psst, Timmy” she whispers, to attract her cousin's attention “Grab me a glass of port when the attendant passes next to you! Pleeeease!” she chirps, smiling broadly and fluttering her blonde lashes. The boy's eyes widen with surprise.

“You can't drink alcohol, Sersh, it's a sin” he reminds her.

“Only if you get caught” she replies, winking at him. The boy sighs and drops his arms in defeat. He patiently waits for one of the attendants with the drinks platters to approach him and offer him a glass: he takes the one he supposes being port (he never saw a bottle of port in his whole life, so he takes a guess) and politely thanks the waiter, who makes a light bow and disappears through the crowd. Timmy bends his arm behind his back and passes the glass to his cousin, who sips the port and moans in appreciation, well hidden behind the boy's shoulders. Then she passes the glass, now only half full, back to Timmy, because it would be a scandal for a girl to be seen drinking whiskey in public (while it's perfectly normal for a boy, even if he is not twenty-one, yet). Timmy turns around, shyly sniffing the rim of the glass, and makes a funny face.

“Uh, this must be really strong” he observes.

“Try it” Saoirse invites him, but he shakes his head. “Oh, come on! It won't kill you, I promise” she insists, but the boy is stubborn in his intentions to be good. The blonde girl laughs, then she peeks behind him and her face gets pale: she suddenly seems appalled by something, or someone, she just saw in the room.

“Don't look back” she whispers to her cousin. Timmy's instinctive reaction is, of course, try to look behind his shoulders. “No, don't! He could feel insulted if he catches us staring at him”

“Who?” Timothée asks, curious and a little scared.

“Captain Hammer! He just entered the room, he's talking to Lord and Lady Kingstone now” the girl explains her cousin, trying not to pry too explicitly “He just came back from abroad, India or whatever. If they invited him, I guess there must be a reason” she seems lost in her own theories for a moment, then she widens her eyes: “Are they planning to match him with their daughter? Are they insane?! Are they even aware of the man's reputation?” Saoirse is honestly incredulous. 

“What reputation?” Timmy inquires, now extremely curious. 

“Well, first of all, he is a cold-blooded soldier: he has killed so many men in war that he has earned the title of _Lucifer's left hand_. He is well known for his skills in torturing people... and not only on the battlefield” she reveals, her eyebrows raising. Timothée blinks and frowns.

“I don't understand. What do you mean?” he queries. He is innocently confused.

“I mean he is alleged to be one of those... how do they call them? Oh, yes: _sadistic_ people” she lowers her voice when she tells the last two words, and even if she is not that kind of girl, she blushes when she says that. “He finds pleasure in inflicting pain to his lovers, who are often... _men_ ” she has a twinkle in her eyes when she says it, and her cousin stares at her in disbelief.

“But... but... this would be deeply immoral, and illegal too!” Timmy states, scandalized. This kind of felony could in fact be punished with a death sentence by hanging, every good citizen knows it.

“Yes, it is, but Captain Hammer is above the law, because everyone is scared of him” Saoirse clarifies, nodding to emphasize her words. “Someone believes he has a secret dungeon below his castle, where he tortures and starves his victims, but nobody has ever been so brave to go there and verify in person” 

Timmy is now terrified to turn around and look at the man: how could a person like that be allowed to show up among the respectable society? What was Lord Kingstone thinking when he invited him? The boy tries to catch a reflex of the man into one of the mirrors behind his cousin's back, but he can't really see anyone who would look like such a monstrous creature: in his mind, Timmy figures the man as a kind of huge monkey (not that he ever saw a monkey, though), ungainly and devoid of any manner or attractiveness, probably unable to have a conversation which doesn't relate to slaughtering men in battle. Who would ever be interested in engage in any sort of social activity with such a sad subspecies of a gentleman? Timmy would definitely be quite ashamed to be seen in a public place in the company of the man.

“Holy Graal, he's coming this way!” Saoirse's eyes widen suddenly. Timmy's heart skips a beat or two.

“What do we do if he tries to talk to us?” he asks, slightly panicking.

“I don't know! Let's just pretend we are looking at the dancing couples” she slips an arm around Timmy's elbow and they both turn towards the center of the room, where a dozen of couples are in the middle of an elegant waltz.

“Miss Ronan, what a pleasant surprise” a deep, masculine voice fills their ears, and both the young people look behind themselves at the same time. The moment Timmy's eyes land on the man, his heart stops beating and his throat narrows, but not for the reason he thought: in front of him, in fact, is standing the most handsome, distinguished man he has ever seen in his entire life. He can't help himself but stare at him, gaping: the music suddenly stops, the people around them disappear, even time freezes for what seems like an eternity, or maybe only a few seconds. 

“Captain Hammer, it's wonderful to see you back home, healthy and in one piece” Saoirse laughs a bit too loud, but the man smiles broadly in return.

“You are too kind” he makes a tiny bow “Good Lord, look at you: last time I saw you, you were barely a little fawn, running around the garden with your kite, and now you are a stunning woman” he praises the girl, his piercing gaze making her blush “You have the beauty of your mother and the fierce look of your father. I was in Jamaica when the report of his death reached me. I've always been deeply fond of him, he was the epitome of the nobility” 

While Captain Hammer talks, Saoirse peeks at her cousin next to her and, when she realizes he is impolitely staring at the man, she pokes her elbow into his ribs, waking him up from his daydream: Timoth é e winces and seems to come back to earth. Saoirse goes back to her conversation, smiling softly.

“Thank you, Captain. My father had a very high opinion of you, too. It was quite distressful for me to lose him, but I was lucky, since my uncle Marc and my auntie Nicole adopted me and brought me to live to their estate, Primrose Lodge” the young lady tells him, then she introduces the two men in front of her: “Please, Captain, allow me to present you my cousin, Timothée Chalamet” she graciously waves her hand towards the boy on her side, “Timmy, this is Captain Armand Hammer, from Pembroke Hall”

The older man makes a cordial bow and his gaze almost burns on Timmy's skin.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir” the Captain says, taking the young man by surprise: nobody had ever called him _Sir_ before. “Your father is Lord Chalamet, I know him by his reputation. I read his superb pleading in support of the abolition of slavery on the newspapers, and I found it passionate, fervent, but also rational and full of pragmatism” 

That unexpected praise of his father lets Timmy speechless. Captain Hammer's voice is so soothing, almost hypnotic, and he is so articulate and eloquent! He should consider a career in politics: Timmy would vote for him without any doubt. How wrong he was about the man...

“Are you an abolitionist, Captain?” Saoirse is genuinely (but positively) surprised about this revelation. 

“Of course I am, my lady. I believe that every human is born free, and free they should remain” the man replies, smiling friendly. 

“You must come to our estate and have a debate with my uncle then, very soon” Saoirse proposes, her cheeks flushed for the sudden enthusiasm, “We will be honored to have you for dinner. I will ask my uncle to send you an official invitation. Please, Captain!” she mewls, making puppy eyes. The man ducks his head with gratitude.

“It will be a pleasure to see the famous Primrose estate. It's deemed to be one of the most beautiful buildings of the County” Captain Hammer observes.

“Oh, it's gorgeous indeed, but nothing compared to the splendors of your house, Pembroke” Saoirse returns the eulogy “I heard that you are in the middle of some important renovations”

“We are indeed, my lady. I needed to adapt some of the rooms to my most favoured amusements” he explains, and glances at Timmy, who hasn't said a single word so far. The boy remembers what his cousin just told him about the man's alleged _entertainments_ and his eyes widen lightly, while his cheeks crimson. The Captain seems intrigued by the young man's reaction, so he keeps looking at him with increasing curiosity. The more Captain Hammer stares at him, the more Timmy becomes nervous and frantic, until he realizes he is still holding the glass of port from earlier, and he does the only thing he can do in that situation: he brings the glass to his lips and gobbles the liquid in one, single sip. The port is strong and bitter and burns into his throat, so Timmy flinches and shuts his eyes closed, making a pained face. 

“Is everything alright, Sir?” Captain Hammer asks, immediately worrying about the young gentleman. Saoirse puts her hand on Timmy's chest.

“I think you should sit down” she suggests. Timmy nods, unable to speak because of the stinging caused by the liquor. He moves towards a door on the side of the main room, opens it and finds a little boudoir: the room is completely dark, except for the reflection of the flames in the fireplace, and Timmy's eyes have to adjust for a few seconds, since the ball room was quite bright instead. The boy gets close to the fireplace and enjoys the pleasant warmth coming from it. His head is spinning painfully, and his stomach hurts, because he didn't eat anything before drinking the port (which he is totally regretting now). Timmy leans a hand against the marble that surrounds the fireplace, finding support, and closes his eyes again. He is completely focused on his sickness, so he doesn't even realize that someone else joined the boudoir. When he senses a hand brushing his shoulder, he quickly turns around, but the movement makes him lose his balance and he is about to fall into the fire... luckily a strong arm wraps his waist right on time, saving him from a sure injury. Timmy tries to get his composure back and looks up, meeting two deep, warm blue eyes embedded in a perfect face: squared jaw, straight nose, full lips smirking at him. Wide shoulders wrapped in a military uniform, narrow waist, endless legs. Captain Hammer is the proof in flash and bones that God is a great artist, sometimes. His solid arms keep Timmy still and avoid him to fall into the fireplace. The boy can't stop staring at the Captain with dreamy eyes and mouth slightly open, and the man stares back at Timmy, his gaze intense and intimidating. Hammer tightens the grip on the boy's slender body, making sure he can feel his semi-hard cock poking just below his navel. Timmy inhales sharply and lays his hands on the man's chest, trying to free himself.

“Please, Sir, let me go” he whispers. Captain Hammer takes a step backwards to give Timmy more space to move without risking to trip on the fireplace again, and then releases the boy, who immediately puts some distance between himself and the man, going to the small sofa and taking a sit, his head still spinning because of the liquor.

“That port must have been very strong, or you never touched a drop of alcohol before” the Captain chuckles, clearly making fun of the young, sick man. Timmy lifts his head to look at him.

“Drinking is the scapegoat of lazy people, Sir, and a sin” he says, steadying his voice as best as he can, while inside he is burning with fear, perturbation and something else he can't quite recognize at the moment. He blames the port for his current daze.

“A sin?” the Captain's eyebrows rise “I believe I remember Jesus Christ turning the water into red wine at a wedding, and supposedly drinking it himself, too. Am I wrong?” he inquires, sarcasm clear in his voice.

“You are trying to trick me into saying a blasphemy, Sir” Timmy replies, frowning, seeming indignant. His head throbs painfully and he has to rest it on the back of the sofa, which is soft and comfortable. Captain Hammer leaves the room, only to come back a few seconds later with a glass of chilled water and a slice of whole grain bread. He sits next to Timmy and offers him the two items.

“Here, drink some water, tiny sips, then eat this: the fibers in the bread will absorb the alcohol into your stomach” he explains, and Timmy obeys in silence. After he has finished all the water into the glass and swallowed the last bit of bread, he glances at the man.

“Thank you, Sir, I feel already better” he smiles and makes a movement as to get up from the sofa, but the Captain stops him.

“No, wait, stay a little bit longer” he pleads, and Timmy senses he is not a man who can easily accept rejection.

“My cousin will be looking for me”

“I told your cousin you were fine, and to enjoy a dance or two until she's still here” Hammer discloses, his voice low and husky.

Timothée feels a surge of panic raise into his chest. He peeks at the door: it's closed, and the music in the ball room is loud. Nobody will hear him if he should call for help. He swallows, making his Adam apple bounce. The Captain tilts his head on the side, smirking.

“Are you afraid of me, Timothée?” the way the man says his name makes Timmy's stomach shrink.

“No, no Sir” he vigorously shakes his head.

“Well, you should, because, you see...” Hammer gets closer to the boy and whispers “...everything you heard about me is true” he stares at Timmy, his eyes piercing right into the young man's soul. Timmy's face becomes even paler and he stops breathing. Captain Hammer bursts in laugh then. “But maybe tonight we should just talking, uh?” he suggests, quite amused by the boy's reaction. 

“Talk about what, Sir?” Timothée asks, still a little scared. 

“I don't know” Hammer shrugs “There is a wide range of subjects we could go through: poetry, art, philosophy, astrology... everything a very well educated gentleman should know about” he lists, keeping grinning.

“Oh, in this case I will disappoint you, Sir” Timmy replies shyly “It just so happens that I am the worst gentleman ever, since I know absolutely nothing about any of these subjects” he lowers his gaze, “I actually know nothing at all, Sir. I've never left my house” he confesses, blushing lightly, the flames reflecting in his eyes.

“And what do you do when you're home? How do you spend time?” Captain Hammer sounds genuinely curious now.

“Well, I have my books and my piano, I study french and german; but most of the time you could find me in the greenhouse, taking care of my plants and my butterflies” he giggles, as if what he just said was a childish silliness. 

“Butterflies? How peculiar diversion” Hammer states, but his eyes show interest and admiration. “Although quite romantic”

“Romantic, Sir?” Timmy turns towards the man “What does it mean?”

“Anything that involves the beauty of nature and the effect it has on human emotions, can be called romantic” Captain Hammer explains to his young friend. Timothée stares at him in awe, eager to know more, to listen to the man's soothing voice a little while longer. 

“Did you learn about these matters during your many travels, Sir?” the boy assumes; as a soldier, he must have been in a lot of different places. Timmy envies him.

“I did, indeed. And please, call me Armie” the Captain kindly suggests. Timmy nods, lowering his head to hide the broad smile opening on his face. 

“Which is the most beautiful place you've ever been... Armie?” he huffs, and the moment the man's name escapes his lips, his heart misses a beat. 

“Oh, definitely Jamaica” the man replies “The nature over there is stunning: so many species of animals, fruits and plants! It's breathtaking” Armie shakes his head and looks at the ceiling, as to gather some happy memories of the place.

“I would like to go there myself, one day” Timmy reveals with a sigh of hope.

“Maybe you could come with me next time I go back” the Captain offers, “I have some trades going on down there, so I travel back and forth from England every six months. I wouldn't mind some company, it's a long journey and it will pass much more quickly with someone to talk to” he smirks, and for a few seconds his gaze lingers on Timmy's lips, especially the moment they open up in a broad smile.

“I would love to, Sir” the younger man accepts with enthusiasm. “There would be so many things I could learn, with your help and guidance” he adds, and there is a glint in his hazel eyes that clearly shows his genuine admiration for the Captain, now that he knows him a little bit. 

“Yes, there are surely a lot of things I could teach you” Armie whispers, his face so close to the boy he can smell the sweet scent of his hair. He is dying with the desire to touch him, to feel the smoothness of his skin, the taste of his mouth, to discover every crease and curve and edge of his juvenile body. He could easily take a chance then and there, but it's too risky, it's a public event and he can't predict the boy's reaction. 

“I'm afraid you would get bored with me very soon, Sir” Timothée interrupts the Captain's deep pondering when he speaks again; “I am not a skilled debater as my father is, or even my cousin” he lowers his head and stares at his hands.

“I'm quite sure we will find some other way to spend our time” Captain Hammer huffs, getting attracted by Timmy's nape like a moth to a flame: he unconsciously grazes the tip of his fingers on the portion of pale skin between the boy's hair and his shirt collar. 

“Sir?” Timothée's voice is almost inaudible: he turns towards the man, his cheeks getting more and more flushed, his eyes wide and shining. Their noses almost collide. Armie gently rubs his knuckles on the side of the boy's face, sensing the warmth and softness of it, the thick eyebrow, the high cheekbone and the hollow under it, the sharp jaw and the long, delicate neck. 

“I saw an exhibition once, in Rome, about the great master Caravaggio. A real miracle of art, in my humble opinion. The boy portrayed in most of the paintings looked quite like you” Captain Hammer tells his guest. He presses the pad of his index finger on Timothée's bottom lip, and the boy instinctively opens his mouth a little bit, as if he wanted to invite the man to go further. It's a clear signal for Armie that he's going on the right path. “Caravaggio and his young model were alleged to be lovers” he whispers, not taking his gaze away from Timmy's parted lips. 

“But this would be a sin” the boy observes, lowering his eyes shyly. 

“How could such a beautiful thing be considered a sin?” the Captain enquires.

“I don't know, Sir. I'm not even sure what _lovers_ really means” Timothée confesses. He truly doesn't know. Armie cups his cheek.

“I can show you, then” he suggests, and he finds himself somehow breathless. The boy's beauty is beyond this world. But it's more than that: there is something in his eyes, in his voice, in his humble attitude that make him simply irresistible. He could induce a person to catch the moon and give it to him without even strive. This thought is quite funny, and Captain Hammer smiles despite himself. 

Timothée is literally dazzled by the man's grin. He can't help himself: he closes his eyes and protrudes his chin, clearly waiting to be kissed. Even if his brain is exploding, even if he hears his father's voice telling him it's a sin. He doesn't listen to it, the prospect of the Captain's lips on his own is too tempting right now.

Suddenly the door swings open, lighting up the room so far surrounded by darkness.

“Timmy, I've been looking for you everywhere” Saoirse's high pitched voice breaks the atmosphere. Timothée jumps up to his feet, his heart pounding madly and his head spinning, but this time the liquor is not to blame. 

“We were just talking!” he bursts out, too quick and too loud. He is genuinely unable to lie.

“Of course you were, you silly” Saoirse reassures her cousin, looking at the Captain suspiciously. “What else could two gentlemen do in a small, dark room?” she says with a strange tone, between sarcasm and accusation. “Our carriage is here, we must go” she warns the boy. Timmy takes a step towards the door but something clings on his arm: he turns around to find the Captain's body close to his own.

“I'll wait for you to my estate, Pembroke Hall, you can easily reach it by walking. Come when you are ready, and I'll show you” the Captain's voice is so low that Timmy himself barely hears it. He stares at the older man for a few seconds, his stomach shrinking painfully and an unknown warmth raising from his guts and making him almost dizzy.

“Timmy?” Saoirse urges him, and the boy walks out of the room with her.

The carriage goes slow, tottering on the gravel road. Timothée is sure he's going to vomit before they can even reach home.

“What you did tonight was really dangerous, and stupid” Saoirse admonishes him, her face serious and her voice steady, “Being in a room, with the door closed, in the dark, with a man like the Captain! What would have happened if it wasn't me, but someone else discovering you two there? What would have people said? It would have been a scandal. Reputation is everything, Timmy. Not only yours, but your family's one, too!” she leans a hand on the boy's knee, her gaze softening “Reputation is like throwing a tiny stone into the sea: once you did it, there is no way to get it back. How could you hope to find a suitable wife one day, with such a blemish on your reputation?” she smiles fondly.

Timothée nods.

“You are right, Sersh, I've been silly, I'm sorry. Please, don't tell _papa_ about this” 

“Never” she promises, squeezing his knee and smiling broadly at him. He knows he can trust her, she's his best friend in the world. He feebly smiles back at her. 

_ Maybe I don't want any wife, Sersh. _

_ \---  _


	2. A dangerous solution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saoirse finds happiness while Timmy takes a reckless decision which could lead to fatal consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg THANK YOU for your amazing support to this story!! Really I can't express in words how happy you made me with your reading, commenting and giving me kudos!! Please, let's stay strong and keep this fandom alive! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter: no smut yet, but it's a fundamental chapter to understand why things are the way they are and how they will develop in the next chaps! I love you all, I love Charmie and I love this fandom :)  
> WARNING: mention of blood in the second part of the chapter. It's just a mention but better say it in case someone was very sensitive to the subject ;)

Chapter 2: a dangerous solution

Breakfast at Primrose Lodge is served at 10:00am.

Usually, the first to wake up is Lord Marc Chalamet: he likes to see the colors of the nature in the early hours of the morning, so he places his toiletries in front of the window in the master bedroom and carefully shaves his face while admiring the wonderful spectacle of the creation of God. He gets dressed and wakes his wife up with a kiss on her cheek. Then goes downstairs in the dinner room, where a long table is already covered in a wide range of delicious foods: bacon, eggs (boiled, scrambled or fried), bread, milk, scones, various types of cakes and jams, and of course coffee. Day can't start without a good, black steaming coffee. Lord Chalamet sits at the top of the table, and immediately one of the attendants brings him his selection of newspapers on a silver platter. It's important to stay informed, especially for a man like him, who is an active part of the local political life. Often, Lord Chalamet sends some articles written by himself to a few newspapers to get published, and when it happens, he reads them aloud during breakfast or dinner, so his family can debate about them and let him know their thoughts. He loves that each member of his family has their own opinion about the things that matter, especially his son, Timothée, who one day will inherit his title of Lord and his place in the city council.

A few minutes later, as every morning, his niece Saoirse joins him in the dinner room.

“Good morning, uncle Marc” she greets him, walking around the table to kiss him on the cheek, then going to sit down at the side of the table, aiming at the apple pie and lemon juice. Lord Chalamet usually enquires about his niece's plans for the day, speaking to her in french to check on her improvements with the language. He is very fond of her, and very proud of the woman she has become. He had no doubt when he adopted her and took her to live in his house, after his brother-in-law died, leaving her an orphan. Nicole, his wife, reaches them after a little while, her hair very well combed and her dress perfectly stretched. She goes around the table to peck her husband on the lips (there is no need to hide their affection in front of the kids, after all), kiss her niece on the temple, and then sits down on the other side of the table, so they can all look at each other without risking to strain their neck.

“Sersh, dear, you need new clothes. You're growing up and these corsets are too small now, they will end up hurting your ribs” Nicole announces, sipping her tea in an elegant china mug.

“I'll tell Andrews to prepare the carriage” Lord Chalamet offers, without taking his eyes off his newspapers.

“Thank you, auntie. Thank you, uncle” the girl replies, smiling broadly.

As every morning, Timothée is the last one to get up: he loves lounging in bed until late, enjoying the warmth of the sheets, the nice feeling of his limbs rested and slack after a good night of sleep. That morning, though, he wakes up with a strange tightness in his chest: he had the most unsettling dreams during the whole night, and had kept tossing and turning and waking up in a puddle of sweat. In his dreams, he heard voices and saw faces, beautiful faces with blue piercing eyes and blonde hair and perfect smiles and huge hands around his own waist... when he wakes up, Timmy looks down under his nightshirt and sighs. It had happened other times that his prick had leaked during his sleep, but his _papa_ had already explained him, calmly and rationally, that it was normal for a young man to experience such events while growing up.

“It will happen often that, in the morning, you will find yourself awake in many ways” _papa_ had said one day, in front of the fireplace, when Timmy was about fourteen, “Don't be scared, it's perfectly natural. It's the sign that your body it's working properly, and one day you will be able to get your wife pregnant. It's how God blesses men when they stop being children and become men. But be careful” he had pointed a finger in his son's face “Don't touch yourself, even if it seems the right thing to do. It's not! It's a sin, it's painful and also very dangerous for your health: you could lose your ability to have children, or getting blind. What you have to do is dip yourself in cold water and breath deeply, and it will go away on its own”

Since that day, Timothée had spent almost every morning soaking his slender limbs in a copper bath-tub full of chilled water, breathing slowly, praying the Lord to stop that curse and giving him a normal life. When he enters the dinner room to join his family for breakfast, his face is pale and he has purple rings around his eyes.

“Oh darling, you don't look well at all” his mother cries out, immediately standing up and cupping his face with her warm hands, hitting the coldness of her son's cheeks. She sweetly invites him to sit down and hugs him.

“I'm fine, _maman,_ don't be concerned” the boy tries to reassure her.

“You're freezing! Here, have some hot milk and honey” she pours the milk in a mug and adds a full spoon of honey, then passes it to her son. She doesn't sit back until Timmy has drunk the whole content of the mug.

“Don't be worried, dear” Marc pats his wife's hand on the table “He probably got a cold yesterday night, coming back from Lord Kingstone's estate. Speaking of which” he turns towards his niece and smiles “how was the ball? Something interesting happened?” he winks and Saoirse tilts her head on the side, raising her blonde eyebrows.

“I know what you mean, uncle: you want to know if I had some rich suitor talking to me or inviting me to dance. Well, I didn't” she clarifies before her relatives can prying further. Marc chuckles.

“Oh, dear, you know that we have absolutely no pressure to see you leave this house, but a girl like you, so smart and full of life... you are wasted here! If you had a husband, you could travel around the world and see all those places you always say you want to see”

“I could travel alone” Saoirse points out.

“A girl travelling alone?!” auntie Nicole intervenes, scandalized. “With all the danger and the horrible things that could happen to you? Oh God I don't even want to think about it” she fans her face with her hand, seeming quite distressed. Her niece rolls her eyes.

“Well, so Timmy will accompany me” the girl proposes, waving at her cousin, who smiles at her.

“No, Timmy has a lot of things to learn before he can take my place as Lord of this estate” Marc reminds her and the rest of the family, his voice low and serious. “He has no time for travelling” he adds, peering at his son. Timothée looks down at his scrambled eggs but doesn't reply. They eat in silence for a while, Nicole checking on Timmy's forehead to make sure he didn't catch a flu. Lord Chalamet cleans the corners of his mouth with a towel.

“You kids should go get ready for your french class. Monsieur Garrel will be here soon” he says, and Saoirse seems to bloom all of a sudden. Nicole sighs dramatically.

“Oh, he's such a good man, it's a pity that he's penniless and has no useful acquaintances. He will never find a wife in the good society, he will have to settle down with the daughter of some shopkeeper” she states, and her voice sounds full of sympathy for the boy. Timmy shots a secret glance to Saoirse, who narrows her eyes and clenches her jaw as to say _Shut up, you dummy._

The french classes are held in one of the living rooms of the estate: a small table, a well furnished library and huge windows to let the sunlight in. Saoirse keeps straightening her dress and checking on her hair.

“How do I look? Am I pretty?” she asks nervously. Timmy smirks at her.

“You are beautiful, but you know that what you wish for it's impossible” he tries to bring her back on earth.

“Because of what your parents said this morning?” the girl enquires, hurt.

“Also, but even because he never did or said anything to induce you to think he reciprocates your feelings” Timmy points out, trying to be rational. Saoirse sits down in front of him.

“He does love me, I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me” the girls squeezes her cousin's hand on the table. “Eyes never lie, Timmy. And I tell you: today is the day he will propose to me” she chirps, her whole body irradiating hope.

“If I had one penny for every time you said that in the last two years, I would be richer than the Queen!” Timmy mocks her, earning a punch on his shoulder. “Ouch! Sersh!” he whines, rubbing at the spot she just hit.

“That's because we are taking time to get to know each other. We don't want to rush things up. That's why our marriage will be different from other ones: we will be really happy together, because we share respect and tolerance” she declares, chin up and shining eyes.

“If you say so” Timothée mumbles, restraining himself from rolling his eyes. The door swings open and an attendant enters the room:

“Sir Garrel is here” he announces and takes a step backwards to let the french teacher in. A tall, dark haired young man peeks into the room and smiles at his two students.

“ _Bonjour, Mademoiselle Ronan. Bonjour, Timoth_ _é_ _e_ ” he greets them and makes a small bow. The two cousins greet him back:

“ _Bonjour, Louis_ ” says Timmy and shakes his hand energetically.

“ _Bonjour, Monsieur_ ” Saoirse mewls, stretching her arm so the french teacher can kiss her hand. Her cheeks flush in the most adorable way.

“ _Comment_ _ç_ _a va aujourd'hui?_ ” the teacher asks how they are today.

“ _Pas mal, merci_ ” Timmy replies. They open their notebooks to verify where they left off last week. They make conversation and discuss about politics, geography and grammar rules. Louis asks Saoirse to describe him the ball at Lord Kingstone's palace, and the girl tries her best to impress the young teacher with a fluent pronunciation.

“ _Tr_ _è_ _s bien, Mademoiselle Ronan!_ ” Louis claps a hand on the table to emphasize his satisfaction with the girl's improvements. Sersh giggles and leans her head on her palm, fanning her long, blond lashes, looking at the man with her most irresistible gaze. Timmy rolls his eyes this time. After about an hour, during a written exercise, the young Lord Chalamet senses something patting at his leg and interrupting his concentration: he looks up and meets his cousin's gaze. The girl widens her eyes and moves her head to the side, towards the door; she does it a couple of times before Timmy can realize that this is the signal that means _Get the hell out of here and leave us alone._ The boy stands up abruptly, almost overturning the chair.

“I just remembered I need to check on my butterflies” he announces gravely, “Will you excuse me, Louis? I shall see you next week. _Au revoir et merci pour ton temps_ ” he shakes the teacher's hand and exits the room as quick as he can. Louis scratches the back of his hair and smiles awkwardly.

“Well, Mademoiselle, I suppose we can declare the class over” he says with the thickest french accent (which Saoirse finds utterly attractive).

“Oh no, please Sir, I need an explanation about a verb” the girl hurries to stop him from going.

“ _Oui, bien s_ _û_ _r. Quel verbe?_ ” Louis enquires, ready to help dissipating any doubts his students may have. Saoirse gets closer and makes eye contact.

“It's the verb _aimer,_ Sir. I need some examples to understand how it works” she nods, smiling sweetly. Louis coughs nervously, breaking the eye contact.

“It is... uhm, a verb you can use to describe something you really enjoy or care about. For example: _J'aime la nature, J'aime danser, J'aime la musique._ Now you, give me an example” he invites her. Saoirse seems lost in thoughts for a few seconds, then she replies:

“ _J'aime le chocolat_ ” she chirps, and Louis grins.

“ _Oui, je l'aime aussi_ ” they both laugh. Saoirse taps a finger on her own lips.

“Uhm... _j'aime le primtemps_ ” she says, because spring has always been her favorite season. Louis nods. They stare at each other, and Saoirse moves subtly forward.

“ _J'aime... toi_ ” she says in a breath. Louis stands up, a sudden agitation shaking his limbs.

“Mademoiselle Ronan!” he blurts out, but there is no anger, or shame, or indignation in his voice or his eyes. Quite the contrary: he looks... surprised and relieved. He is blushing furiously. Saoirse gets up too.

“Louis, I didn't mean to offend you, but I can no longer hide my feelings for you. I love you and I'm sure you are the only man I could ever love” she declares herself to him.

“Oh, _ma ch_ _è_ _re!_ ” he takes her hands in his own and brings them to his lips, kissing her palms and wrists. “I though I would have suffered in silence for the rest of my life! Oh my dear, dear _Serche_ ” the way the man pronounces her name makes Saoirse giggle.

“I swear I have the most honorable intentions, Sir” she states, making a serious face, then laughing. Louis smiles at her joke, but his face betrays his concern.

“I have no money and no connections. I have no patronage or friendship in the high ranks of society” he reminds her something she already knows very well. “Your uncle will never give his permission to our wedding” he tells her, sadly.

“So let's run away together!” Saoirse suggests “If we put them in front of the _fait accompli_ , my family will be forced to give their blessing to avoid a scandal” the girl is right: when the news of their escape would become public, her uncle will have to grant his permission for a shotgun wedding to protect the dignity of the family name. Louis makes an outraged face:

“Never! I may be just a poor teacher, but I am a gentleman and an honorable man. I would never drag you, and myself, so down” he proclaims, a surge of pride in his tone.

“Is there no hope, then?” Saoirse sounds on the verge of crying. He holds her by the shoulders: a light, gentle grip, but somehow strong and safe.

“There is, if you can wait for me” he smiles fondly “I need to find a steady job, in a school or maybe a college. Then, when I'll have a consistent income, I will buy a small house for ourselves. Your uncle will have to give his permission” Louis reassures her, a sparkle of optimism in his dark eyes. “But you need to have patience, _mon amour._ Can you?”

“Yes, yes I can” Saoirse nods. Louis cups her cheeks and she closes her eyes, pouting slightly, clearly waiting to be kissed. The french teacher is more than happy to comply.

\---

For the next few nights, Timmy keeps having troubles with his sleeping schedule: he tosses and turns into his sheets, sweating, kicking the blankets off the floor, moaning and whining, making unintelligible sounds. He dreams about blue eyes and huge hands all over his body; he hears deep voices telling him obscene words; he senses his chest tighten and his flesh getting stiff and then relax, a wonderful sensation of floating taking over him. When he wakes up, there is a white, sticky substance all over his thighs, stomach and the sheets. He gets up with a grunt, fills the bath-tub with cold water and dives in. After, he pulls the sheets away and hide them in the closet, because he is too ashamed of himself and doesn't want the household talking and tattling about him behind his back. It would be humiliating.

One night, though, his dream feels particularly real: he finds himself in someone else's bedroom, a place he's never been before; he can't move and he realizes his wrists and ankles are tied up to the corners of the bed. He panics and tugs at the ropes, but it's all useless. He is stuck. The room is dark except for the dim light coming from the fireplace. Suddenly someone is crawling over him: it's a man, with large shoulders and muscular arms. His blue eyes stare at him, digging into his soul.

“ _Are you afraid of me, Timoth_ _é_ _e?_ ” a deep, masculine voice says.

“Please, please let me go” Timmy tries to convince him, but the man disappears from his line of sight. The boy perceives a gentle touch on his chest, sides, thighs, calves... then an unbearable heat on his prick. “No, no, please stop, please...”

_He is well known for his skills in torturing people... and not only on the battlefield..._

_He finds pleasure in inflicting pain to his lovers, who are often... men_

His cousin's voice breaks into Timmy's dream. He keeps feeling a wet warmth on his most intimate area, and without being fully aware of the reason why, he starts moaning and arching his back, searching for more. More, more, more...

“Please, please, don't stop” he begs his mysterious captor. His muscles are shaking painfully, and soon he senses his guts tightening. He wishes for relief, he needs relief.

_Caravaggio and his young model were alleged to be lovers... I can show you, then..._

Captain Hammer's voice is now totally clear and unmistakable. Timmy panics for real.

“No, no please, this is immoral! This is a sin!” he cries out, but he gets overwhelmed by a sensation of incredible pleasure: all his body tenses and relaxes, his muscles clench and then go slack, his mind becomes numb and he feels like floating in the air. He screams and finally wakes up with a jolt. He sits up in the middle of the bed (his own bed, this time), panting frantically and with his heart almost exploding in his chest, his skin covered in sweat and various other body fluids. He hides his face behind his hands, crying, confused and ashamed of himself once more. What's wrong with him? Why is this happening to him? Is this a divine punishment for having desired another man's lips? Timmy doesn't understand, and what is even worse, the usual remedy for his little morning issue is not working: his prick is still hard, red, throbbing painfully, even if the boy has been dipped in cold water for more than forty minutes. He is desperate; he tries to think, tries to calm himself down, tries to remain logic and rational. He could ask for help, but whom? His father would be so disappointed, his mother would be scandalized and Saoirse will laugh of him savagely. No, he can't talk to anyone about this. He wraps himself into a towel and walks around the room, breathing slowly. He glances outside the window and sees the small pond on the other side of the garden: he remembers last summer, him and Saoirse taking off their shoes and soaking their feet into the freezing cold waters. He has an idea.

Nicole is in the garden, cutting some roses to put on the table for breakfast. She intercepts with the corner of her eye something moving in the direction of the pond. The sun is blinding so she has to shield her eyes with her hand: she can clearly see a black, hairy object moving on the surface of the water. Could it be a dog? Or a sheep? Or is it an intruder? She is about to go inside and call for their butler, when she recognizes the mysterious creature being her son, Timothée.

“Timmy! Timmy! Oh my God, Timmy!” she calls his name, running desperately towards the pond. “Timmy, come back!” she yells, but he seems to be indifferent to her distress. Nicole throws herself into the water and slowly, clumsily tries to reach him, the dozens of layers of her dress getting soaked with water and becoming heavier and heavier every step she takes towards the center of the pond. It's like moving into quicksand. In the meantime Saoirse, who has heard her auntie screaming, is running through the garden as fast as she can. The girl dives into the water and moves her arms and legs, somehow getting to catch Timmy's wrist under the surface.

“What are you doing?” she shouts out, pulling at the boy's arm and dragging him closer to her. His teeth are chattering. “Lean on me” she tells him, turning around and putting Timmy's hands on her shoulders, then swimming back to the shore. Nicole grabs both the kids with her hands and pull them out of the water. When the two women realize that Timmy is naked, each of them take off one of their petticoats and cover his shivering limbs.

Of course, the following day Timmy has a raging fever: his skin is cold but he is sweating profusely. The maids have to change his sheets two or three times in one day because the cotton gets rapidly wet. The boy quakes violently and he is raving, keeping talking in his sleep.

“No, no, it's a sin...”

They send for the doctor, who proceeds with cutting the patient's veins to drain some of the sick blood out of his body. It doesn't work, quite the opposite: Timmy is getting worse and worse any passing hour. Nicole and Marc never leave his bedside, while Saoirse seems like a restless soul, walking through the hallways and into the garden to avoid losing her mind. She disappears into her room for a few hours, then goes out of the estate and comes back when it's already dark. Luckily her auntie is too busy crying next to Timmy's dying body to mind her.

Four days later, when it looks like they have no choice but starting making plans for the boy's funeral, someone knocks at the main door. The attendant opens it and a man with a kind face takes his hat off and introduces himself.

“Good morning, I'm doctor James Wilson, I came here all the way from London to visit young Lord Chalamet” he announces, and is immediately invited to enter. The attendant guides the doctor upstairs and timidly peeks inside Timmy's room.

“My Lord, my Lady, a doctor is here” he whispers. Marc and Nicole seem confused: a doctor? Which doctor?

“Let him in” Lord Chalamet says, and doctor Wilson moves forward into the bedroom, shaking the man's hand and making a bow to the Lady. Then he gets closer to the bed and checks on Timmy's wrist, his eyes, the inside of his mouth.

“Your son's heartbeat is very feeble. His life is hanging by a thread, but you already know that” doctor Wilson reveals them with a sigh.

“Doctor, please, if there's something you can do... anything! I am very rich, I can pay you any amount of money you'll ask for” Marc begs the man. He is ready to fall on his knees if it will be necessary to save his son. The doctor smiles.

“I don't need your money, my Lord. What I need is a little help from the household: clean sheets and towels, hot water, and someone should make an infusion with this herbs” he digs into his leather bag and fishes out a satin pouch with something inside. It smells very nice. Nicole calls the maids and gives them orders to do everything the doctor asks, immediately and without question. There is suddenly a big turmoil into the whole house: doctor Wilson and two girls, with Nicole's help, wrap Timmy's entire body into warm, damp towels, changing them every time they start getting chill. The doctor holds Timmy's shoulders while Marc or Saoirse help the boy drinking the herbs infusion. Timmy seems to be able to open his eyes again a few hours later. He smiles weakly at his mother.

“Your son needs sustenance: we will start with liquid food, soup and broth. And water, lots of water, because his body has been deeply dehydrated by the fever” doctor Wilson explains, always keeping his calm and composure. Nicole and Marc nod and thank him. The doctor leaves the estate only when he is sure everything is settled for the night, in case of a sudden relapse. He promises he will come back the next morning. Timmy sleeps all night, his face regaining color any passing minute.

When doctor Wilson joins the Chalamets the following morning, they hug him tightly.

“Thank you, doctor. You saved my son's life” Marc is on the verge of tears.

“Well, that's basically my job, Sir” the doctor replies humbly. “Can I see the patient?”

“Of course, doctor!” Nicole steps in, “Please, follow me” she walks out of the living room with the man right behind her.

Timmy smiles when the door opens: he is sitting in the middle of the bed, sipping at his herbs infusion.

“Good morning doctor, good morning _maman_ ” the boy greets his guests. The doctor gets closer and again checks at his wrist, eyes and mouth. He nods with satisfaction.

“Your heart is beating fast and loud, and you look much better” he says, ruffling the boy's already ruffled hair. Timmy giggles. “I think he can have some solid food today: red meat and legumes, because he needs to fortify his blood and muscles” doctor Wilson advices, then turns to Nicole. “Madame, may a have a word with the young Lord? Alone?” he asks.

“Yes, of course” she replies, then leaves the room. The doctor takes a chair from a corner and sits next to the bed, interlacing his fingers on his laps, ready to listen to anything the patient has to tell him.

“So, Timothée, would you please explain me what prompted you to take a swim into the pond in full winter?” the older man enquires, but there is no judgement in his voice. He is smiling. Timmy blushes furiously and lowers his gaze.

“I can't tell you, doctor, it's too embarrassing” the boy mutters, playing with the hem of the sheet. Wilson chuckles.

“I ensure you, anything you'll reveal I've already seen it, cured it or experienced it”

Timmy keeps silent for a while, then inhales and exhales deeply.

“I wanted to... make it go away” he whispers. The doctor seems perplexed.

“Make _what_ go away?”

“The hardness... down there” Timmy clarifies. Wilson starts to understand.

“Oh, I see. And does this _hardness_ happen often?”

“Almost every morning, but it's getting worse lately. My father told me I need to dip myself in cold water and breath slowly, and it worked perfectly so far!” Timmy whines, still not making eye contact with the doctor, “But yesterday morning, I couldn't... couldn't...” he rambles and is unable to finish the sentence. He is drowning into shame.

“Alright, don't worry” Wilson pats the boy's arm in a paternal way. “Everything you are experiencing right now is perfectly normal. Just... this is not the exact way to deal with it” he tries to explain the boy, feeling a little awkward since he had never seen a young man being so unaware of his own body. “I'm not implying that your father lied to you, and I'm sure he only meant to protect you, but... the only way to make the _hardness_ disappear without injury yourself is relax, listen to your body and follow its needs” Wilson smiles kindly. Timmy is more confused than ever.

“I don't think I can do it, doctor. I'm too scared of going blind. I need my sight” the boy says, frowning. Wilson muffles a laugh.

“You won't get blind, Timothée! Believe me, if this was true, all the men on this planet would be blind” he winks at his young, naïve patient, then becomes serious again: “Listen, it shouldn't be me to tell you these things. Do you have a friend your age, or older, a male friend, you can talk to about these doubts you have?”

“No, Sir. I don't have any friends besides my cousin Saoirse” Timmy confesses sadly. Doctor Wilson seems more and more concerned for the state of health of the young man in front of him.

“Do you play some outdoor sports? Well, other than swimming into ponds” the doctor jokes, making Timmy giggle.

“No, doctor” the boy shakes his head.

“Do you ride or own a horse?”

“Oh no, Sir, it's too dangerous! I could fall and break my spine” Timmy seems to mechanically repeat someone else's words. Wilson suspects it's his mother's anxiety to talk. He gives a gentle pat on Timothée's cheek and stands up.

“Very well, I have to go, but I'll come back tomorrow to say goodbye. Would you do me a favor?” the doctor asks while putting the chair back in the corner of the room.

“Of course, Sir” Timmy replies.

“Get up as soon as you feel better and go for a long, long walk. Maybe ask your parents to buy you a dog, just for company” Wilson advice the patient, smiling fondly at him from the door. He makes a tiny bow and leaves.

The doctor meets Lord and Lady Chalamet in the living room again. They enquire about their son's health and what can they do to make him recover promptly. Wilson inhales a deep breath, straightening his shoulders.

“I will be very honest to you, because I can see how much you both love your son: he is lonely, and he spends too much time inside this house. He has no other friends that his cousin, this is not normal for a smart, blooming young man. His skin is pale and dry, a clear sign that he needs to be outside more, under the sun, breathing the clean air. He needs to be among people his own age, he needs friends to keep his mind and his body active. Please, don't take it as a criticism or a scold, I'm sure everything you do is aimed to protect Timothée, but sometimes we as parents do more harm when we try to over-protect our children instead of letting them make their own mistakes” the doctor's speech leaves Marc and Nicole bewildered.

“Yes, doctor, I admit that maybe sometimes I've been a little... smothering with him” Nicole justifies herself, her voice trembling slightly “But our eldest daughter lives in Paris, and she has always been so independent and strong since she was born! Timmy is my child, and I just wanted him to stay a child as long as I could. I've been selfish, I know...” the woman bursts in tears. Marc hugs her. Doctor Wilson clears his throat, almost regretting having spoken.

“My professional advice is to leave the boy a bit more free: buy him a dog, allow him to take equitation courses. Send him to the sea for the summer, so his muscles can gain strength and his skin color. The sea breeze is very good for helping lungs develop and making hair and nails stronger. Also he could eat fresh seafood every day, which will help his brain and memory to improve” the doctor describes the benefits of spending a few weeks in a village on the sea side.

“Oh no, no this is absolutely off the table” Nicole replies frantically “We won't send Timmy to the sea! A few years ago the daughter of a family who lives nearby was sent to have baths to help her getting stronger before her wedding, and you know what happened, doctor? She drowned!” the Lady yells, unable to stop shaking and crying. “A whole family destroyed on a silly whim!”

“Well, I'm deeply sorry to hear that” Wilson murmurs “But I'm sure it was a sad incident. Maybe the girl was left alone. You could make sure Timmy has someone with him all the time, an adult person, who can look over him and keep him safe. This is my medical advice, but it is up to you to follow it or not. I won't feel insulted if you decide not to” the doctor smiles and nods, ready to take his leave.

“May I ask you something, doctor?” Marc enquires then. “How did you hear about our son being ill? It's a long way from London”

“I think this is something you should discuss with your niece” Wilson points behind the couple, and they turn around to find Saoirse standing there, in the middle of the room, biting her lips and looking guilty (but not repented). “I will come back tomorrow morning first to check on Timothée one last time before I go take the carriage to the capital” Wilson promises while walking towards the door, “I would like to stay longer, this town is really lovely, but unfortunately Her Majesty hates to be neglected”

“Oh, the Queen!” Nicole pulls at her husband's arm, eyes wide and dreamy.

“To which address should I send your fee, doctor?” Marc speaks again. Wilson shakes his hand with energy.

“There is no need to do such thing, Sir. Everything has been already settled. Apparently, Timmy has a friend, after all” doctor Wilson states, then makes a polite bow towards Nicole and Saoirse and leaves the house.

When they are left alone, Lord and Lady Chalamet proceed with their niece's interrogation.

“I was in panic, I didn't know what to do!” Saoirse shrugs.

“Alright but can you explain us what _exactly_ did you do?” uncle Marc presses her.

“The second day Timmy had fever, I wrote a note to someone, explaining the situation, begging for help” the girl confesses, eyes on the carpet. “Then I went out to bring the note to his estate. You two were of course too busy to notice my absence”

“Where did you bring the note?” Nicole enquires nervously. Saoirse takes a moment to reply, then she whispers:

“To Pembroke Hall”

Marc and Nicole seem taken aback by surprise.

“Pembroke? Isn't it the estate which belongs to...” Marc starts.

“... Captain Hammer” Nicole finishes the sentence. She muffles a sob with her hand on her mouth. “He saved our son's life. Why? They don't even know each other!” she says in a high pitched voice. Saoirse coughs.

“They actually do, auntie. We met him at Lord Kingstone's ball. I introduced Timmy to the Captain. I know he has a bad reputation, but he is a kind, noble man, I promise! I think he has been misunderstood” the girl takes the Captain's side, nodding widely.

Uncle Marc sighs, then glances out of the window, to the garden (and the pond).

“Well, if this is how things are, I suppose we should at least show the man our gratitude” he states, and his wife agrees with him.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No members of the Chalamet family have been mistreated during the writing of this chapter ;) ;) ;)


	3. A worthy life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy goes to Pembroke Hall to express his gratitude to the Captain. They have very different opinions on many subjects, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! THANK YOU for your lovely comments and for keeping reading my stories! I'm so sorry for the delay with this chapter, but the last few days I just felt so sad... every time I opened my laptop and tried to write something, I started crying and then I was too exhausted to write, so I just kept giving up :( This chapter is almost all dialogue, but next one I promise something very sweet will happen! We need some smut right now <3

Chapter 3: a worthy life

A couple of weeks later, Timmy has perfectly recovered from the fever: his skin is pink, his eyes are shiny and his mood is positive. As doctor Wilson advised, he is taking a long walk every day. Most of the time, his cousin Saoirse walks with him, and they go on top of the hill, or down town to look at the shop windows, or through the woods. He eats red meat and vegetables and keeps drinking the herbs infusion before bedtime. His health improves considerably and his sleeping schedule goes back to normal. He doesn't have strange dreams anymore, even if his little morning issue seems to persist: Timmy thinks about what doctor Wilson said about listen to his body, but apparently his body speaks a different language, because Timmy still doesn't know what to do with himself. He decides to save his old habit to have a chilled bath every morning. It looks like the best solution so far. He doesn't need to hide the sheets in the closet anymore, and that makes him very happy.

Timmy finds out that if he keeps his mind busy, he can avoid to think about a certain Captain and his stupid blue eyes and his ridiculous big hands. He starts catalogue all the plants in the greenhouse (which are several and all with different features); he adds italian and latin to his list of foreign languages to study; he ranks in alphabetical order all the places he wants to visit when he will turn twenty-one. Days become weeks; weeks become a month. One morning, during breakfast, his father asks Timmy to join him in his private sitting room to have a talk. The room is simply furnished with a writing table, a book shelf with plenty of old volumes, some of them very precious, a green sofa and two brown armchairs. When the two men enter the sitting room, Marc closes the door and hugs his son tight, kissing the top of his head.

“Is everything alright, _papa_?” Timmy asks, leaning into the hug. He likes this physical displays of affection between him and his parents. Marc releases the boy and holds him by the shoulders, a gentle but firm touch, looking at him from head to toe.

“I just wanted to let you know how proud I am of your recovery. You followed the doctor's instructions perfectly. It's amazing to see you so full of energy. I'm planning to bring you to London with me in spring, to show you the city. It's time that you learn everything about politics, because soon you'll be asked to vote, and it's a big responsibility” Marc announces, a glint in his blue eyes. Timmy nods, grinning happily.

“Yes, _papa._ I can't wait for it”

Marc points at one of the armchair, silently inviting his son to get comfortable. Timmy wonders what else is going to be discussed. His father takes a book from one of the shelves and gives it to Timmy.

“Do you remember this?” he asks his son with a smile. Timothée examines the volume: it is quite thick, with golden engravings on a red leather cover and a silver plated buckle. The boy skims his fingers on the hollowed letters on the cover.

“It's grandad's bible, isn't it?” Timmy seems to remember after a few minutes. He was very young when his grandfather passed away, he barely remembers him, but really fondly.

“Yes, it is” Marc smiles thinking about his father, “He wanted it to be part of your inheritance, but for the moment it's still mine. Would you miss it, if I will decide to give it to someone else?” he interrogates his son.

“To whom?” Timothée asks, curious. Marc inhales deeply.

“To the person who saved your life” he reveals, and Timmy grins.

“Oh, you mean Doctor Wilson! Yes, I would be very happy for him to have the bible” the young man approves his father's choice.

“Doctor Wilson has already been rewarded for his little miracle” Marc informs his son, “The person I want to have the bible is the one who actively moved to bring the doctor here from London” he specifies, and Timmy frowns.

“Who?” the boy enquires, and a cold shiver passes through his whole body. Lord Chalamet stares into his son's eyes with an inscrutable gaze.

“Captain Hammer, from Pembroke Hall” he just says. Timmy feels the panic raise from the bottom of his guts: how did the Captain know he was unwell? Does Marc know about him and the Captain talking in the boudoir alone? Is he in trouble? He stands up abruptly, almost dropping the bible on his feet.

“We just talked for a minute, I don't know the man!” he justifies himself, as he somehow should do it. Marc sits down on the armchair in front of his son.

“Well, it seems like the Captain has a very high opinion of you, if your life was so important to him to make him summon the Queen's personal doctor himself”

Timmy doesn't know what to say: he just keeps staring at his father, the bible in his hands: he holds the book so tight that his fingers become white from the exertion. His head is spinning with a thousand of questions, doubts, fears. Captain Hammer has saved his life. Does he have an agenda, a hidden reason? Did he do it just because he wants something from Timmy? And what? He said he wanted to _show him,_ but what exactly did he mean by that? Timothée doesn't have any answer, not even for his father's request. Marc detects his son's perturbation, so he takes the decision for both of them.

“I would like you to go to Pembroke on sunday morning, to give this bible to the Captain as a gratitude act for what he did, and to invite him to dinner here, in our estate, for a day of his own choice” Marc gives notice, his voice gentle but firm. Timmy shakes his head, eyes wide.

“Oh no, _papa_ , please. I don't think I should go there” the boy blurts out, remembering Saoirse's voice telling him _the Captain has a secret dungeon below his castle, where he tortures and starves his victims..._ if Timmy goes to Pembroke alone, will the Captain imprison him into the dungeon too? For ever? The only thought makes the boy shiver and tremble.

“And why that?” Marc enquires, raising his eyebrows at his son's refusal to obey.

“Well, because... because...” Timmy stutters nervously “Because of what people say about the Captain. I don't think we should be acquainted with him in any way” the boy states, nodding to emphasize his point of view. Marc gets up from the armchair and looks at his son with bafflement.

“Timothée Hal, you better know you are disappointing me very much. The bible says: _do not judge and you will not be judged_. What do we know about this man, except that he did not hesitate to use his connections to bring here the best doctor in London to save your life without asking for anything in return?” Lord Chalamet scolds his son with harshness. “Your mother and I didn't raise you to be an ungrateful savage. You'll go to Pembroke Hall on sunday morning right after breakfast, and will invite the Captain to join us for dinner, if he wants to. This is my last word on it” Marc says.

“Yes, _papa_ ” Timmy mumbles, totally unable to reply further.

\---

Sunday morning, Timothée doesn't even touch his eggs and bacon: his stomach is completely closed, he's dying with anxiety and fear because of his trip to Pembroke. There is a tiny part of him, though, that is inappropriately excited to see the Captain again, but Timmy chooses to ignore it, convincing himself that he's just eager to see the famous castle, nothing else.

Lord Chalamet has made arrangements for a carriage, but Timmy informs him that he'll be walking, since the doctor advised him to. That morning, before breakfast, the boy takes a long, meticulous bath, washing every crease of his body thoroughly, using more soap than usual, scrubbing every inch of his skin with a damp cloth. He does it because he loves to be clean and scented, of course; not because he secretly hopes to end up naked in the Captain's bed. Absolutely not, that would be a sin. He's not a sinner, he will never be.

Timmy walks slowly through the woods and up the hill, and after an hour or so, he sees the castle from afar: it is a wonderful, impressive building, made of grey stones, with tall towers, an immense garden all around and a huge black gate in front of it. The boy approaches the gate and easily opens it, walking across the path that brings to the castle's main entrance. He hesitates for a few moments before finding the courage to knock at the thick wooden door: a butler wearing a shiny golden livery opens it and greets the sudden guest.

“Good morning, Sir”

“Good morning, uhm, is the Captain home?” Timmy asks, and immediately feels like a silly little boy. “I mean... I would like to talk to him. I'm Lord Chalamet's son” he clarifies, straightening his spine and lifting his chin to give himself a semblance of nobility and self-confidence. The butler moves aside and invites him inside the castle.

Captain Hammer is in the main library, immerse into his navigational charts: he has some of them spread on a big desk, and is studying at them with a magnifier lens. The butler reaches him and announces that _Lord Chalamet_ is there to talk to him. The Captain is very surprised, but not annoyed.

“He must be here to thank me for saving his son's life” he says to the butler, smiling, “Please let him in”

The butler makes a bow and leaves the library. Armie goes back to his charts, expecting to see the old Lord Chalamet enter the room eventually. He gets distracted by a mistake on one of the charts, so he doesn't notice the young man wandering into the library, staring at the huge shelves with his mouth open and his nose up.

“This place is amazing” a low, immature voice breaks the silence in the room, and Armie looks up immediately, feeling a warm wave raising in his chest.

“Timothée” he says in a breath, grinning broadly; he clears his throat and stands up from his chair then: “I'm happy to see you, finally. How are you?” he enquires, and the light in his eyes betrays his emotion to have the boy standing in front of him, at last.

“I'm very good, thank you Sir” Timmy replies, nodding, not daring to meet the man's gaze. He keeps staring at the floor, somehow shrinking under the man's attention.

“Yes, you look healthy indeed” the Captain confirms. There are a few seconds of silence, in which he keeps smiling like a fool, while the boy doesn't even move a single muscle. Then, Captain Hammer walks around the desk and in a couple of steps he is closer to his guest. “You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you” he confesses, raising a hand and aiming at the boy's face. Timmy catches the movement and quickly retreats.

“I'm not here for the reason you think, Sir” the young man clarifies, trying to make his voice sound as firm as he can, though his heart is exploding in his chest while he speaks.

“Oh” Armie seems taken aback. “So why are you here?” he gives the boy a glance from head to toe, wishing Timothée wasn't so cold and indifferent towards him.

“To give you this, Sir” Timmy presents the bible to the Captain, who takes it and starts to examine it, a smirk on his face. Armie brushes the boy's fingers on purpose when he grabs the precious book from his hands, and enjoys the sight of him blushing.

“A bible? Such an interesting choice of gift to give to a man who people call _Lucifer's left hand_ ” the Captain observes sarcastically. He is quite amused by the funny situation. Timmy's eyes widen with surprise.

“Oh no, no Sir, this wasn't... I didn't mean...” he rambles awkwardly “This is a present from my family, to thank you for sending doctor Wilson to our house and saving my life. We are all very grateful to you, Sir” Timmy explains, nodding. Captain Hammer smiles again.

“There is no need for such a generous gift, though. I just did what I believed to be the right thing to do in that moment, nothing else. Please, bring it back and tell your parents I thank them, but they don't owe me anything” the Captain returns the bible into Timmy's hands. The boy seems confused: he frowns, peering down at the book.

“I really want you to have it, Sir, because I think reading it could help you improve yourself” Timothée lifts his head and meets the Captain's eyes “Because I think that, despite all you did, or may have done in your past, you still have a chance to become a good Christian and live a worthy life” the boy delivers his speech like a skilled man of church. Armie chuckles.

“A _worthy_ life?” he repeats, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

“Yes, Sir” Timmy keeps his composure “A life that follows the word of God. He has a path for everyone, but it's up to us to find it and see where it leads us” the boy's sweet smile is full of hope. Armie can't help himself but smile back at him (while everything he wants to do is kissing him savagely).

“Alright, listen: this is a very complicated subject to face with an empty stomach, and I'm starving” the Captain replies, unrolling the sleeves of his shirt down his arms. “What does the bible say about having lunch? Because I want to invite you to the gentlemen's club, they have the best steak in town” he announces, searching for his jacket. He doesn't even wait for Timothée's decision: he opens the door of the library and guides the boy outside.

\---

The gentleman's club is a very elegant place with a bar, a reading room, a restaurant and a lounge where the men can sit down, enjoy a glass of port and talk about politics, money and other manly subjects. Captain Hammer is one of their most special guests, so when him and Timmy enter the club, there are immediately two waiters asking if they want to have lunch and handing them the menu. They get walked to their table and Armie asks Timmy if he wants something to drink.

“No, Sir, I'm fine, thank you” the boy replies politely, making the Captain smirk.

“Oh yes, I remember your opinion about alcohol from our night at Lord Kingstone's ball” Armie sits down in front of Timmy and unfolds the napkin, then orders a glass of whisky for himself.

“Yes, my opinion is not changed, Sir: alcohol is a gateway for more wrong behaviors” Timothée tries to keep eye contact while speaking, making an effort to not blush or stutter under the man's intense gaze. “A drunk man can do inadmissible things, to himself and to others”

“So you don't recommend alcohol, then. Anything else you find unsuitable for a man? Maybe you should write down a list for me” the Captain enquires, and the sarcasm in his tone couldn't be more explicit. Timmy takes a breath and tries not to look insulted.

“I'm just saying, Sir, that there is no reason why an honorable man needs to waste his money and his health with something that does nothing else but intoxicating his body and his mind” the boy points out. The Captain searches into the inside pockets of his jacket and pulls out a very expensive _Havana_ cigar: immediately a waiter approaches the table and lights up a match, helping the guest with the task of lightening the cigar. The Captain wraps his lips around the rolled tobacco and hollows his cheeks to inhale; then he exhales, and a tiny cloud of fog surrounds his handsome face. He smiles at his young friend.

“What about smoking?” he teases the boy, clearly amused. Timmy muffles a cough with his hand on his mouth.

“I don't stand the smell, Sir. Sorry” he apologizes, but the Captain keeps enjoying his _Havana_ as if he didn't hear Timmy speaking. They order two of the biggest steaks and while they wait, Armie almost finishes a full bottle of red wine on his own. He makes sure Timmy sees how much he is relishing the taste of the drink.

“So, a man who calls himself _honorable_ should avoid drinking alcohol and smoking, right? Did I understand it correctly?” the Captain summarizes, grinning widely, his eyes shining in the light coming from the window. “How boring, though. Life would be unbearable for me, but I suspect I'm not so honorable after all” he states. Timothée can't stop playing with the corner of his napkin.

“You could be, Sir, if you give up your old patterns and start following the word of God. That's why I wanted you to have my bible, so you can read it and find the answers you need” the young man replies.

“So God wants me to live a boring life?” the Captain laughs, showing his sharp fangs, “Will God be happier seeing me repress myself, smothering my desires and becoming more and more sad and gloomy day after day, until I'll just wither away and die? Uhm... he must hate me a lot” he jokes, raising his glass of wine and taking another sip.

“Please, Sir, don't make fun of God. This is blasphemy and I won't stay sit here a minute more if you go on talking this way” Timothée frowns, surprised by his own strong reaction: he is always so calm and peaceful, while now he senses like the Captain is just trying to upset him. He's not used to argue to defend his ideas.

“Alright, just saying” the Captain lifts his hands and shows his palms to his friend in an act of surrender. “But follow my reasoning: why would have God given us this desires, this feelings, this needs if he just wanted us to suppress them and live a miserable life?” he questions the young boy in front of him, forcing him to think with his own mind, and not someone else's. Their steaks come to the table and they start eating in silence.

Timmy keeps searching for a clever answer to the Captain's last query, but he can't find one. He could mention the _free will_ , but this would only validate the Captain's point of view: if a man has free will, why shouldn't he use it to indulge in practices that are considered wrong in the bible? He has the freedom of choosing a life in sin, and he can repent and ask for forgiveness just before he dies. This is something Timmy has always find quite ambiguous, anyway. Sometimes he finds himself thinking about death, and it's utterly dreadful.

“How does it feel to kill someone?” the boy asks before he can even put his thoughts together. Armie looks surprised for a moment, then he relaxes his shoulders and cleans the corner of his mouth with the napkin.

“It's devastating, but it's often the only possible choice, especially when the alternative is being killed yourself” the Captain explains calmly, and Timmy nods, because it makes sense. “One becomes accustomed to it after a while, until it's just something you do without actually ponder over it. Why are you asking me this?” he smiles at the boy's sudden curiosity. How did they go from talking about God to this?

“I don't know, Sir” Timothée admits, blushing furiously and staring at the table. Armie chuckles.

“Are you planning on killing someone you don't like? I hope it's not me, because I want you to like me” he whispers, making Timmy blush even more, if it would be possible.

“Oh, no Sir, I wouldn't... I think I could never hurt any other human being, even if I should be forced to do it” the young Lord Chalamet says. There is a long moment of silence, then the Captain speaks again.

“Even if this human being was a ferocious criminal and deserved to die?” he speculates, peering at Timmy with increasing interest.

“No, Sir, because it wouldn't be my right to judge him and decide if he should live or die. Only God can do that” Timmy answers with confidence this time, nodding lightly. Captain Hammer tilts his head on the side, smirking cleverly.

“Very good point, Sir. But let's suppose, in the abstract of course, let's say one night a man enters your estate, slipping into the bedrooms, and kills your parents” Armie leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and staring into Timmy's wide eyes. “Then he goes to your cousin's room and before killing her, he abuses her, in the most hateful way a man can abuse a woman. Let's say, always theoretically, that you ask me to find the man, and I do it! I find that scam for you, and I bring him to you, tied up and unable to hurt again. What would you do, my Lord? Would you let God taking care of him, or would you rip his flesh apart piece by piece until he screams and begs for mercy? The same mercy he did not show to your relatives, would you grant it to him, Sir?” the Captain's words are like sharp blades, hitting Timmy and breaking his skin, penetrate the muscles, piercing his guts. The boy's cheeks, once flushed red, are now pale and cold: he keeps his gaze on the Captain, wondering what is he supposed to say next. The smell of the cigar has now become insufferable, and the steak was really too big for Timmy's little stomach; he senses a wave of bile raise and threaten to spill out right then and there.

“Sorry, Sir, I think I should...” he can't even finish his sentence: he covers his mouth with a hand and runs outside the room, followed by a few pairs of confused eyes and by Armie's worried gaze.

Timmy leans on the wall outside the building. He made it right on time before his body decided to get rid of anything he had eaten or drunk in the last week, it seems. He vomits his own soul out of his guts, his limbs shaking, trying to hide himself behind the trees in the club's forecourt and hoping that nobody will walk close and see his shame. He feels mortified, especially when he realizes he is crying.

“Is everything alright here?” a familiar voice asks. Timmy turns around and finds Captain Hammer behind him, looking concerned and guilty. “I'm sorry I upset you so deeply, it wasn't my intention to make you feel sick. I was just... I don't know, I'm sorry. Will you forgive me, Timothée?” Armie's voice is barely louder that a breath. Timmy nods but doesn't say anything. He feels like he could start vomiting again if he opens his mouth now, and it would be humiliating to do it in front of the Captain. The tip of his nose is red for the weeping, and his hands are visibly trembling. The Captain wraps him into his arms, holding him tight, caressing his head and shoulders; Timmy rests his cheek on the man's chest, leaning into the touch, which is pleasant though unexpected. He relaxes immediately.

“I'm so sorry I said those horrible things. I just wanted to prove my point, I suppose” the Captain murmurs into the boy's hair, discovering the sweet scent of it, relishing into that new sensation. “Sometimes I let myself get carried away. I forgot how young and pure you are. You shouldn't listen to this old, cynical man anyway, I have nothing interesting to teach you”

“That's not true, Sir” Timmy replies, freeing himself from the embrace and getting his composure back. “You pushed me to deliberate, to reconsider my opinion, to react, and that is something I wasn't used to, but I think I should be, since one day I will have an active part in the society, and I will be required to be able to discuss about things I don't agree with. I over reacted, and I apologize for this, Sir”

“Nothing to apologize for” the Captain reassures his young friend, “And please, call me Armie” he reminds him. They smile at each other. “Let's go take a walk in the park. It's a warm day, I don't want to go home yet” Armie points at the small municipal park just next to the club. Timmy nods and the two men head towards the place.

There are a few children running after a kite, and people sit on the benches, reading the newspapers or feeding the birds. Everything is so peaceful, and the sun is still shining bright despite being late afternoon. There is a pond in the middle of the park, where swans and ducks live and breed. The two men reach it and decide to sit down in the grass and enjoy the view for a little while. They lie close to each other, their faces towards the sun.

“Will you dive into the water?” the Captain makes fun of Timmy and his recent _incident,_ chuckling “Because if you do it, I will have to save you, and I'm particularly fond of this suit” he jokes. Timmy laughs and lightly punches the man's bicep, then he turns on his side, bending his arm under his head, looking at the Captain, whose eyes are closed.

“Have you ever been in love, Armie?” the boy asks shyly. His face crimsons even before he finishes the question.

“Love is for fools and poets, Timothée” the Captain turns his head to glance at his friend and smirk, “And I am neither of them, I'm afraid” he sighs at the sight of Timmy, so beautiful and vulnerable, so precious. His hazel eyes are twinkling; his lips are full and red like two mature cherries. He scans the place around them to check if someone could see them, but the few people walking in the park seem to completely ignore their presence, so Armie gathers some bravery and gets closer to the boy, covering him with his body, aiming to his neck: he kisses and bites the soft skin, carefully and slowly to avoid leaving marks, tasting the sweetness of Timmy's flawless epidermis.

“I want you, Timothée” the Captain whispers “I wanted you since the first moment I saw you”, he confesses while his hands roam all over Timmy's body.

The boy feels his face getting hotter and hotter any passing second, his hips involuntarily moving towards Armie's body, searching for contact, longing for something more... he moans and senses his prick getting stiff in his trousers. He panics.

“Stop, please!” he shouts out and pushes the man away, but Armie is heavy and Timmy is shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“Don't be scared, I would never hurt you” the Captain soothes him, gently caressing his face. Timmy closes his eyes and nuzzles Armie's palm. “Come back to my estate, please. Let me take care of you. Let me show you how happy I could make you. Let me worship you as you deserve” he begs, almost breathless.

“Will you entrap me into your dungeons?” Timmy opens his eyes and seems terrified all of a sudden. Armie is honestly confused.

“What dungeons?” he frowns, then he understands: it must be another of the legends about him and his alleged entertainments. He shakes his head and laughs. “There are no dungeons in my castle, Timothée. Only a basement where I keep my wine, but you are clearly not interested in seeing it” he jokes, dissipating the tension. Timmy breaths fast, staring at the man towering over him, their bodies still connected. He never saw anything more stunning than the Captain's features under the sunbeams.

“I will gladly fall to hell if that means being closer to you” the young Lord says, heart pounding madly, blood almost boiling in his veins. “Yes, Armie. I will come to your estate. I will be yours, as long as you want me”

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you seen Timmy's commercial during the Super bowl? Aaawww he is my pride & joy, I love him to the edge of the universe and back!


	4. A leap of faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy experiences his first orgasm. A dinner at Primrose Lodge brings out a secret from the Captain's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg peopleeee THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for all your wonderful comments (I'll reply to all of you, I promise!!), for keeping reading my silliness, but above all thank you for keeping this fandom alive and strong!! It means so much to me, you don't even imagine how much!! So, new chapter, I didn't even re-read it so sorry for the grammar horrors xD I'll check them tomorrow. As always: no members of the Chalamet family have been mistreated during the writing of this chapter ;) ;) ;)

Chapter 4: a leap of faith

The journey in the carriage from the municipal park to Pembroke Hall had turned out to be a long, slow torture for young Lord Chalamet, but not in the way he feared.

After what Armie had said when they were lying down in the grass, Timmy had expected -had _hoped-_ that the carriage would have become the safe haven for their first kiss, for _his_ first kiss. Nobody could see them from outside, since they were sheltered by a thick layer of curtains all around. The Captain could have done everything to him in that bubble, hidden from prying eyes, and no other human being would have ever known about it, not even the coachman. Instead, Armie had just stayed there, sit in front of Timothée, looking at him with those scandalously blue eyes, not even saying a word, for the whole trip. Timmy had kept fidgeting, squirming, pulling at the hem of his jacket's sleeves, biting his lips, trying to find something to do to distract himself from that intense gaze. He had looked up at the man from time to time, blushed, and had gone back to stare at his hands. Captain Hammer's ability in observing enemies and find their weakness in battle was very well known in the society, but the fact that he could do it even outside the battlefield often ended up pushing people to get defensive in his presence. But not Timothée : he was like an open book, there was no emotion which didn't show up on his face. He couldn't lie, because he couldn't hide the truth. That was one of the many reasons why Captain Hammer had liked him since the first moment they met: the boy's change of expression when he had seen Armie at the ball, and then his way of staring at him with his mouth slightly open; his genuine smile when he was talking about his butterflies, and his cute blushing when the Captain had caressed his cheek. Every single feeling was literally written on his face, and that was something Armie had never experienced before. Apparently, Timmy was not the only one to expect a few _first times_ from now on. The Captain had the distinct impression that he was going to face something new and unknown. And scary, especially for someone his age. But he was sure it would have been worth it, for Timmy.

Anyway, the Captain had kept his mouth shut and his eyes glued on the boy, and that had made Timmy even more nervous.

_What is he going to do to me? Will it hurt? What if I don't like it? Maybe I should excuse myself and get out here, walk home and never see him again._

Timmy's mind was a hurricane of thoughts, anxiety, insecurities.

_What if he doesn't like me? Maybe he will think I'm too thin, or not masculine enough. What if he asks me to do something and I'm unable to?_

The boy had let out a deep sigh, then he had glanced up at the Captain.

“May I sit next to you?” he had asked shyly. Armie had smiled.

“No”

“Why?” Timmy had frowned “Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course not” the Captain had reassured him “It's just easier for me to look at you if you stay there” he had confessed, smirking in a way that had made Timothée shiver. This was the only exchange of words they had during their journey in the carriage.

\---

They arrive at Pembroke Hall when the sky has already a lovely shadow of orange and pink. Timmy wonders if his parents are getting worried about him staying out for so long.

“I'll tell one of my attendants to bring a note to Primrose, if you want” Armie offers, while showing Timmy the whole castle. The number of portraits and pieces of art is inestimable: it looks like being in a museum, not a private residence. The boy walks from a room to another with his nose up and his eyes wide with admiration.

“Yes, it would be a good idea. Thank you” the young guest smiles. “What should I write?” the naïve question makes Armie grin.

“Better say that you are remaining for dinner” the Captain suggests, making Timothée blush. He writes down a brief note for his parents, and a boy with a blue livery rides towards Primrose Lodge immediately.

“And this one is the master bedroom, where I sleep” Armie opens the door and lets Timmy enter first. The boy's heart is beating at such a high speed, that he is afraid of being too noisy and disturb the household. His cheeks are flushed in a lovely way that makes him look even younger than he is. The bedroom is big enough to be able to contain at least thirty people: a huge four-poster bed with green curtains occupies almost a whole wall, while there is a balcony in front of it with a wonderful view of the hill; a writing desk and a tall bookshelf are on the left side, and an impressive large wardrobe completes the room on the right. A golden chandelier hangs from the ceiling.

Timmy gets close to the balcony window to watch the landscape, hoping that the sight of it could help him feeling a bit less anxious. Armie observes him from a safe distance: he keeps his composure, but inside he is burning with the desire to devour the boy. If it had been someone else, anyone else, the Captain would have taken everything he wanted right into the carriage without a second though. But not with Timmy, he was different. Special. Captain Hammer wanted to take all the time he needed with the young Lord, to savor every minute, to enjoy every tiny detail of him. Armie takes off his jacket and his vest and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Timothée” he says in a low, husky voice that makes the boy jolt with surprise. Timmy turns around slowly, eyes down, breathing heavily. “Look at me” the Captain commands, and it's impossible for Timmy not to lift his head automatically at that dominating sound. “Would you take off your clothes for me?” the man asks, his gaze caressing Timmy's figure from head to toe and back. The boy nods and starts to loosen his tie with shaking hands; he takes off his jacket, his vest, then unbuttons his shirt and let it fall on the floor.

“Come closer” the Captain orders him. Timmy obeys and takes a few steps forward; he stops right in front of Armie, who looks at him as if he was one of the precious artworks scattered all around the castle. “You're perfect” the Captain huffs while his hands land on the boy's hips, which are wrapped into the trousers, but Timmy can still senses the touch of the hot palms on his skin, even through the fabric. “Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are, Timothée?” the man's voice is so sensual and masculine that Timmy almost has a syncope.

“No, Sir... I mean, Armie” the boy stutters nervously. The Captain grins.

“It's fine, you can call me Sir when we are alone, I like it” he says with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Timmy swallows and nods, a lump in his throat which prevents him from speaking. Armie leans his head forward and places an open, wet kiss on Timmy's stomach. The younger man closes his eyes and arches his spine, searching for a deeper contact.

“Was this pleasurable?” Armie asks, and the boy nods. “Do you want me to do it again?”, another nod. Armie complies very gladly, once, twice. Timmy moans lightly and licks his lips. “Beautiful... perfect” the Captain goes on with his praises, “Now take the rest of the clothes off” he says, removing his hands. Timmy whines at the loss of their connection, but immediately busies himself with the belt and then the buttons of his trousers. He removes his shoes and his socks, then slips the trousers down his legs and leaves them in a puddle on the floor next to him. He is still wearing his underpants: shyly, he covers himself with his hands and giggles.

“I've never been naked in front of anyone else except my mother” Timmy confesses, his cheeks a lovely shade of red. The Captain raises his eyebrows comically.

“You are not naked yet” he points at the underpants. Timmy clumsily unties the waist and rolls the underwear towards his feet, stepping out of it and kicking it at the side. Now he is completely undressed: his guts shrink at the sight of Armie staring at his prick with interest. He is still not touching him, and yet Timmy can feel the Captain's hands _everywhere_. It's like his mind was already beyond the present time. He's shaking and it's not because the room is cold.

“You're a masterpiece” Captain Hammer whispers, eating the boy with his ravenous gaze.

“Can I take your clothes off, too?” Timmy enquires, in a sudden surge of courage. Armie meets his eyes, which are shining with eagerness.

“Not yet. Lie down on the bed, on your back” Armie says, and his tone of voice doesn't allow any replies. Timmy silently sits on the blanket and leans his back on the bed, crawling up until he is totally spread out. Just as he did on the grass in the park, Armie is now towering over the younger man, using an arm for leverage, leaving the other hand free to start the exploration. And he does it, he slowly grazes his palm on Timmy's chest, his side, his thigh, his calf, perceiving the light hairs there, and then back again: thigh, side, chest... he covers Timmy's neck with his hand, not squeezing, just holding him. The boy's eyelids are closed and his mouth is open, gasping for air. Armie's thumb travels on Timmy's jaw, back and forth, then lands on his chin and bottom lip, pushing the soft flash down, uncovering the little pearly teeth and the pink gums. Timmy clenches his fists around the blanket and moans, head spinning, skin burning under the Captain's skillful touch.

“Look at me” Armie repeats, willing to see the hazel of the boy's eyes. Timothée obeys once more, shivering and losing himself in the deep blue of the Captain's pupils.

“Will you kiss me now, Sir?” he begs, desperate to feel the man's lips on his own. Armie frowns, seems lost in thoughts for a few seconds. He takes his hand off the boy's neck.

“I'm afraid this is something I can not grant you, or myself” the Captain tells him, sadly.

“Why?” Timothée insists, and his distressed expression almost breaks Armie's heart.

“Because kissing someone means allowing that person to see a part of yourself that it's usually hidden, protected. It means to give that person power over your emotions, your feelings. It means you're sharing a deeper bond, which is something I'm not ready to do, yet. I hope you'll understand what I'm saying” Captain Hammer explains to his young friend. No, Timmy doesn't really acknowledges what Armie is talking about; he thought that they already had a sort of bond, a special connection, a growing relationship, but apparently it's not like that, at least not for the Captain. Timmy shakes his head, eyes watering. The Captain chuckles.

“No, of course you don't. You're so young, you know nothing about life” Armie cups the boy's face, gently caressing his cheek. “Have you ever been kissed?” Again, Timmy shakes his head. “Your first kiss should be with someone you really care about” Armie smiles, resuming his previous ministration, skimming his hand all over Timmy's limbs, not even giving the boy the time to reply _I care about you._

Suddenly Timmy finds himself being rotate on his stomach, so quickly he doesn't even realize it.

“Sir?” he asks, slightly panicking.

“Shh, it's fine, I just wanted to see if you have freckles on your back, too” Armie murmurs, grazing his fingers along Timmy's spine, making him shiver. He cups one of his buttocks, squeezing it delicately, earning a soft moan. The skin is so smooth and silky, it's like holding a pulpy, mature peach. “You're so tiny” the Captain's voice is loaded with sensual promises. Timmy gasps when he senses the tip of Armie's finger find its way inside the crease of his bottom: he grabs the blanket into his fists and opens his mouth, but no sound escapes.

“Is this alright? Do you want me to stop?” Armie enquires then, noticing the boy's reaction. Timmy sinks his face into one of the pillows and shakes his head, giving the Captain permission to keep going. The older man's finger travels up and down between the butt-cheeks, gently rubbing the skin there, lingering on the tight hole, which opens itself like a blossoming rosebud under the Captain's expert ministration. Timmy muffles his increasing moans into the pillow and involuntarily starts moving his hips, creating a friction between his prick and the mattress which is incredibly delightful. He bites the fabric of the pillowcase when Armie slips his first phalange inside his hole. His entire body is shuddering violently. He needs more, just like in his dream.

“Armie...” he whimpers.

“Is this painful? I will stop if you want me to” the Captain observes Timmy's flushed face, his dilated pupils. The young man closes his eyes, his lashes fanning.

“Please, don't stop” he murmurs, increasing the friction of his hard shaft against the blanket. The Captain smirks and his finger starts moving gently, one phalange, then two, inside the warm, soft flesh. He doesn't find any resistance, not even when he slips the entire length of his index finger in. He moves it slowly at first, then faster, always being careful not to hurt his lover; a loud, sharp moan informs him that he found that mysterious bundle of nerves that gives so much pleasure to men. He immediately starts rubbing it, earning desperate moans and divine invocations.

“Oh my God... oh God” the boy is experiencing a full mystical ecstasy. His body is twitching and jerking, and his skin is red like he just spent all day under the sun. There are tears falling down on his cheeks, and Armie decides to have finally mercy on him: he rolls Timmy's sweat body on his side, so now his back is leaning on the Captain's chest and the taller man is spooning the boy from behind; Armie slips his free arm under Timmy's body and wraps the boy's prick with his own hand, while he is still managing to torment the sweet spot inside him. The Captain starts stroking the younger man's shaft, gently but with a steady rhythm, since Timothée seems already gone too far to be cautious.

“Armie, I'm dying!” Timmy cries out in between moans. Captain Hammer chuckles.

“No, you're not dying, my angel. Quite the opposite: tonight you're being baptized” he whispers in the boy's ear. Timmy's head is resting on Armie's shoulder, while the older man kisses and licks his exposed neck. The sensation is so strong, so overwhelming, so total: Timmy feels like he doesn't have the slightest control over his own body anymore, and it's terrifying. It's like a leap in the dark. His brain is going to explode, his blood is going to evaporate. He senses like something should happen: will this stop abruptly at some stage? Will it turn into pain and discomfort? Will Armie send him home and never talk to him after everything will be done?

“...beautiful... so precious...” Timmy hears the Captain's voice, but it sounds distant and muffled. Suddenly, everything gets silent and blurred, he feels a wave of heat surrounding him, all his senses abandon him at the same time; he shuts his eyes closed and literally sees stars, white flickering stars behind his eyelids. He screams once, twice, probably three times before letting himself go and falling face down on the mattress like a knitted doll. He perceives his prick leaking and then getting soft.

“You're alright, my angel, I've got you” the voice of the Captain brings Timmy back on earth: the man gently covers him with the blanket (the clean side) and holds him tight in his strong arms, lulling him and whispering praises to him, kissing his forehead and his nose. It takes more than a few minutes for Timmy to regain the use of his senses: he blinks several times before his sight can get back to normal, and there is still a low whistle in his ears. He opens his eyes widely and meets the Captain's handsome face: he is smiling at him, a warmth in his gaze that Timmy had never seen before.

“Welcome back, my angel” the man says sweetly, caressing his cheek.

“I've never felt anything like that before” Timothée confesses, still dazed. “Is this what people mean when they say you are a... _sardonic?_ Because it wasn't so painful, really. I think people have a wrong opinion about you”

Armie frowns for a moment, staring at the boy like he just spoke in a foreign language, then he bursts in laugh when he realizes that Timmy meant _sadistic_ and he definitely has no idea what that word means. It's so ridiculous and yet so cute that the Captain can't help himself but laugh and squeeze the boy even tighter.

“You are definitely confused, and adorable. And you have so many things to learn” he caresses Timmy's hair, kisses the top of his head “I don't know what people say about me, and I definitely don't care. Do you?” he questions his lover, raising an eyebrow.

“No, Sir” the young Lord shakes his head energetically.

“Good boy” Captain Hammer whispers, sending shivers all over Timmy's spent body. They stay like this for about half an hour, and Timmy keeps drifting off and waking up, cuddled into Armie's protective embrace.

“I feel happy” the boy murmurs, smiling against the Captain's chest.

“I'm glad to hear it” the older man replies, then suddenly moves, depositing Timmy on the bed and getting up. “I'm sorry, but I have a previous engagement and I can't miss it. I have to meet some of my investors for some businesses I have abroad. I will talk to you about them, if you want, but not today” the Captain walks towards the corner of the room, where a small table is set with a bowl and a pot: he pours some water from the latter to the first, and washes his hands, his face, his nape. Then he closes the buttons of his shirt, unrolls the sleeves, wears an elegant red satin tie and a jacket, combs his blonde hair as best as he can. Timothée follows every single movement of the Captain from his cocoon on the bed. His brain is spinning at the speed of sound right now, and he mulls over a few things: Armie is truly, painfully gorgeous, why doesn't he have a wife? He didn't take off his clothes when they entered the bedroom, why? He didn't want to kiss Timmy, will he ever do that? When? Does he like Timmy the same way Timmy likes the Captain? Will they go to hell for doing what they just did? Well, it's not important anymore, mostly because Timmy assumes - _hopes_ \- there will be a second time, and a third, and a fourth...

“... but it's mostly tobacco and wood trades” Armie explains, and Timmy realizes he has kept talking the whole time, while the boy was distracted by his own thoughts. “I have properties and factories in Jamaica and Madagascar, do you know where they are?” he quizzes Timmy, smiling broadly. Timothée blushes and lightly shakes his head. “Alright, I will show you them on the map. Oh, my precious boy, the world is so big! Sometimes it scares me how big it is” the Captain seems possessed by an unexpected enthusiasm that makes Timmy smile.

“I think I should go” the younger man observes: there is no need for him to stay there, since the Captain is going out.

“No, stay as long as you want” Armie walks around the bed and poses a kiss on his forehead, “Take your time, there is clean water in the pot. Don't worry about the blanket” he winks conspiratorially, making Timmy blush even more. “You can go into the library, do you remember where it is, don't you? And take as many books as you want. The carriage will take you back home whenever you're ready. Oh and go to the kitchen to get some food, you supposed to have dinner here tonight” the Captain retrieves a grey coat from the closet and wears it. “Ask for Danitza, she's my cook. Her english is terrible but she makes the best cottage pie in the whole Kingdom! She will look after you” Armie glances at the boy in his bed one last time before storming out of the room, not even giving Timmy a chance to say _Thank you_ or _Good night_ or _Please, don't leave me._

Timmy feels quite irrelevant and small in that huge bed. He silently observes every part of the room: the fresh painted walls, the pattern on the curtains and carpets, the grain of the wood of the furniture. Then he studies the pillars of the four-poster bed, following the knotty intertwining of the wood to the center of the bed's canopy, where he discovers to be a hook. He frowns, perplexed, then shivers at the thought of _why_ that hook is there, and for what purpose. He gets up from the bed and proceeds to wash his face and body, then he wears his clothes back and goes downstairs, towards where he imagine being the kitchen. The household keeps working, not even minding his presence: girls and boys run around the castle, talk to each other briefly, then disappear behind a random door. Timmy follows a girl with a couple of dead rabbits hanging from her shoulder, presuming she's headed to the kitchen: she is indeed, and Timmy smells a lovely fragrance of stew, rosemary and oregano. His stomach growls awkwardly.

“Good evening, madame” the boy tentatively approaches one of the waitresses “I'm looking for the cook, she's...”

“There, that fat bitch” the girl doesn't even let Timmy finish talking and points a chubby short lady, visibly busy next to the stoves. The housemaid rushes out of the room immediately. Timmy stares at the door for a few seconds, totally puzzled by the girl's lack of manners (no one at Primrose Lodge talks like this), then he takes a few steps forward and coughs to make his own presence known. The lady turns around and gives him a glance from the tip of his hair to the laces of his shoes, and smiles.

“Oh, you must be _Captan boy_!” she yells, then pinches Timmy's cheeks with her warm fingers, forcing him to bend forward. “I wait for you. Captan say you hungry. Please, sit” she shows her guest the table and chairs, inviting him to get comfortable. Timmy obeys, grinning back at her, noticing her blue eyes and her flushed cheekbones. She fills a dish with some stew and puts it on the table in front of the boy, then adds a loaf of bread, some bacon, a pint of beer, a piece of goat cheese, a pie and a basket with some fruit.

“Thank you, madame, but the stew is more than enough, really” Timmy giggles, looking at all that food. It could feed a whole army. The cook places her hands on her hips.

“You eat, you very small! Captan like meat” she winks at him, smirking, and the young man's face reaches the same shadow of red of the tomatoes on the shelf. He starts eating to avoid dying of embarrassment. His eyes follow the lady working around the kitchen. From time to time she checks that he's still eating, and she refills the dish with more stew when Timmy finishes it. He gives up rebellion and tries to eat it all.

“Thank you, madame” he says.

“My name Danitza” she replies, starting peeling potatoes.

“I'm Timothée. Timmy” he introduces himself, and they smile at each other. Timmy tries the beer: it's bitter, he doesn't like it. Then he engulfs a piece of bacon, a slice of cheese, and a few grapes. His stomach is about to explode, but he doesn't care; he's too happy to be bothered right now. Danitza nods with satisfaction, a tiny hill of peeled potatoes on her side. Timmy would gladly help her, but he has never even touched a potato his whole life, let alone peeling them! He would cut off a couple of his fingers for sure. He watches the cook dice the potatoes in perfect little cubes with a surprising skill.

“May I ask you something, madame? I mean, Danitza” Timmy finally talks. “How is the Captain when he's home? Is he a fair master? Is he nice? I promise I won't tell him anything. I just want to know him better” the boy admits, shrugging.

“Captan is good man” the lady confirms, and her smile seems genuine, “He find me in London. I have husband, he is bad man, he do bad things to me. Captan kill him. He say: _Danitza, you are free now_!” she makes a deep, baritonal voice to mimic Armie's one, and Timmy giggles. She sits down in front of him. “But I have no work, no friends! So I say: _I work for you now,_ and he bring me here! And now I am lady” she grins broadly, preening, making the boy laugh. Then she leans a hand on his arm and looks at him with kindness. “Captan too good for this town. People bad here. He not happy” she reveals, and her smile fades. She pats Timmy's arm before standing up and going back to her cooking.

Timothée feels a pang in his stomach at the thought of Armie being affected by what people say about him. He feels worse when he remembers he believed those rumors himself: he had judged and condemned the Captain before he even met him, before he really got to know him, just because he had heard someone, somewhere, whispering something. Timmy had been a fool, like anybody else in town. Now he was getting to know the man, and the respect and the esteem he felt for the Captain was increasing more and more any passing day, together with something else, something deeper.

\---

Timmy doesn't see the Captain for the following four days. Instead, he dreams about the man a lot; he dreams about Armie every night, and in the morning his sheets are soiled. Timothée sighs, rolls his eyes and decides it's time for him to learn how to wash his own linen. He only have to find out where the laundry soap is.

On the fifth day, he's losing his mind: he misses the Captain's voice, his presence, his touch. He misses even the smell of his damn cigar. So he takes a bath, gets dressed and walks to Pembroke Hall right after breakfast; he has to go anyway, since he forgot to ask the Captain about dinner and his mother is literally haunting him about it.

When Armie sees Timmy enter the library, he opens his arms and grins. The boy literally flies and throws himself into the Captain's embrace.

“I missed you so much” Timmy mumbles, pressing his face into Armie's neck.

“I was right here” the Captain laughs. “I want to show you something” he says and takes Timmy's hand, leading him into a smaller room next to the library. The boy's heart is already beating fast like a woodpecker: will Armie order him to undress like he did a few days before? Will he touch Timmy again? Will he kiss him this time, finally?

There is a huge map of the continents which covers one of the walls of the room entirely: there are some pins on it, and several shipping lanes are marked in different colors.

“Look, this map shows the lands we know so far” Armie explains, beaming with excitement; he points at the map “The red pins represent the places I have been, while the green pins are the places I have trades and businesses going on” he clarifies, and Timmy smiles and nods. The red pins are the majority, because Armie has been travelling a lot, while the green pins are only a few, indicating exotic countries of which Timmy never heard about. “The meeting with the investors went very well, so now I may have to add some green pin here and there” Armie continues, but his smile seems to fade a bit, “That means I may have to leave England at some point during summer. I will probably not return until next Christmas” he announces, looking at the boy with fondness.

“Oh, I see” Timmy just replies, trying to keep a neutral face, while inside he is crumbling down. He blinks fast to avoid his tears to fall. “Maybe you'll be back in time for my birthday” he shrugs, eyes on the carpet.

“When will it be?” Armie asks.

“On the 27th of december” Timmy says, still avoiding eye contact. There is a long moment of silence, then Armie cups his cheeks and lifts his head to make the boy looking up at him.

“I wouldn't miss it for the world” he reassures Timmy, his thumbs brushing on the smooth skin of the cheekbones. The younger man leans into the sweet gesture, closing his eyes, breathing slowly.

“Can we go into your room?” Timothée suggests shyly. The Captain smirks cleverly.

“For what purpose, my Lord?” he huffs, and as he expected, he makes the boy blush.

“So you can do... that thing... you did to me last time” Timmy makes it clearer, a little embarrassed but also proud of his new self-awareness. He knows what he wants, and he asks for it. Captain Hammer chuckles at the cute _avance._

“You know you can do _that thing_ by yourself, don't you?” he jokes. Timmy gapes, then frowns.

“Yes, of course, I mean... no, yes, I know” he nods a little too vehemently, and Armie laughs and kisses his forehead.

“I would be very happy to comply, but I can't right now. I'm waiting for a person. But please, feel free to come back whenever you want. I'm here for you” the Captain says, and the gleam in his eyes makes Timmy's heart flutter like the wings of a hummingbird. He hugs the man as tight as he can before heading for the door; he remembers the reason he was there when he has already a foot outside.

“Oh, yes, sorry, I was meant to invite you for dinner to our estate, but I keep forgetting!” Timmy giggles, scratching his head. “Would next sunday be fine for you? My parents would like to thank you for sending doctor Wilson” he smiles and waits for an answer.

“Sunday will be perfect” Armie confirms, seeming positively surprised.

While walking on the path to the gate of Pembroke, Timmy crosses another person, coming from the opposite side: it's a boy, slightly younger than him, with fair blonde hair and lively green eyes. He is dressed with appropriate clothes, but definitely not the same clothes Timmy usually wears. He must be the son of one of Armie's tenants. The unknown boy lifts his chin when he gets closer to Timmy.

“Hey, are you here to squeeze some money from the old bastard, too?” he says, glancing at the young Lord from the bottom to the top, a malicious smirk on his handsome face.

“No, Sir, I'm not” Timmy murmurs, confused. Who is this boy and why is he talking about the Captain in such a disrespectful manner? The stranger boy chuckles, then winks at Timmy and keeps walking towards the castle. Timothée wonders why Armie has to meet this young man, and his guts shrink at the sudden thought that maybe he's not the only one to whom the Captain does _that thing._ Maybe Armie needs to have more that one lover to be completely satisfied. Timmy didn't even considered this, but now that he's thinking about it, he discovers it makes perfectly sense: why should a man like Captain Hammer settle for a silly, bland kid like the young Lord Chalamet?

\---

Timothée doesn't go back to Pembroke Hall the next day, or the day after. He doesn't see the Captain until he comes to Primrose Lodge for dinner a week later. Saoirse and Nicole are both splendid in their expensive dresses and jewels; Marc and Timmy are very elegant too in their black suits and tie. When the attendant enters the living room to announce that Captain Hammer is there, Timmy's heart skips a couple of beats.

 _Please, please don't be awkward!_ He begs himself, hands slightly trembling, cheeks flushed already. The Captain is absolutely stunning in a burgundy suit, broad smile and well combed hair.

“Captain Hammer, we finally meet, at last” Lord Chalamet says and shakes the man's hand with genuine exuberance. Then Armie kisses Nicole's hand.

“I'm honored to meet you, Captain” she chirps, staring at him in awe. “You are as tall as charming!” she flatters him. Marc rolls his eyes. It's Saoirse's turn to have her hand kissed.

“Captain, long time no see” she says wittily, and they share a look.

“Miss Ronan, you become more and more beautiful every time I see you” Armie compliments her, earning a smile and a light blush. Timmy is the last one to be greeted, being the youngest member of the family.

“Captain” he just huffs dryly: he's still hurt for discovering Armie's infidelity. The older man seems taken aback by such coldness.

“Timothée” he simply replies, his smile clearly fading away.

They spend an hour in the living room, enjoying a glass of blueberry juice before dinner (alcohol is not allowed at Primrose) and talking about politics, mutual acquaintances and the new Queen.

“I heard she's lovely” Nicole tweets with a dreamy gaze.

“I heard she's a spoiled, whining brat” Saoirse corrects her auntie.

“I'm quite sure the truth lies somewhere in between” the Captain pleases them both, smiling politely.

Dinner is served at 6:00 pm. As always, Lord Chalamet sits at the head of the table; Nicole and Captain Hammer are on his right side, while Saoirse and Timmy are on the left.

“Tell me, Captain” Nicole starts while the appetizers are served, “How are women in the rest of the world? Are they well mannered like us? How do they dress? I heard that in some very savage countries people go around completely _naked_ ” she whispers the last word, looking scandalized. Marc and Saoirse have to muffle a laugh.

“Yes, madame, there are indeed a few tribes in some parts of the world where clothes are considered not essential” Armie confirms, sipping some water. “But this doesn't mean they don't have their own culture and their own rules. On the contrary: some of them have a very well planned society, with a strict hierarchy, laws and traditions that have been going on for centuries. The fact that they don't look or speak like us doesn't make them less worthy of our respect” the Captain states. All the people around the table are staring at him in silence now, and he feels a little anxious: maybe he just said the wrong thing and offended his hosts. That would be disgraceful. He glances at Timmy, who is watching him intensely as he just saw the man for the first time. His hazel eyes are twinkling and he is smiling. They eat, and for a few minutes the munching and the clattering of the cutlery are the only noises that fill the room. Saoirse is the brave soul that breaks the uncomfortable silence.

“Is it true that in some cultures, women are the head of the family and take all the decisions for themselves?” she enquires, leaning lightly forward, eager to know.

“Yes, is it true indeed, miss Ronan” the Captain agrees “The women choose their own spouses, manage the money and gather when there is an important decision to take. Everything without the men's intrusion”

“Oh, it must be awesome!” Saoirse sighs. Lord Chalamet chuckles ironically.

“We have a _suffragette_ in this house, Captain” Marc jokes.

“Well, I more than agree with granting women the right to vote” Armie admits, and Saoirse gives his uncle a victorious glance.

“Are you?” Nicole seems surprised to hear those words coming from a man like Hammer.

“Of course, my Lady. I genuinely believe that every responsible citizen should be allowed to take part to the destruction of our country” the Captain says, and they all laugh.

“Holy Graal, you're a terrible man, Captain!” Saoirse bursts out.

“I am indeed, miss Ronan” Armie murmurs, smirking and peeking at the corner of the table where Timmy has been sitting in silence for the whole time. The boy blushes under the Captain's sudden attention. The main course is served and they all enjoy the food.

“How come that a man like you, so smart and fascinating, doesn't have a wife?” Nicole pries, quite indelicately. Timmy starts coughing frantically: the bite of meat he was swallowing has taken the wrong pipe the moment he has heard his mother's improper question. Saoirse pats his back with energy until he stops. When he has made sure Timothée is fine, Armie answers the lady.

“I am a very difficult man to bear, madame, so I decided I don't want to burden any good woman with my bad temper and my rough attitude” he confesses, hiding his face behind a glass of water. He doesn't look at Timmy, though.

“Well, our Saoirse here is a very desirable prospect for a man, and she could stand up to anyone, even you, Captain” Lady Chalamet chirps proudly.

“Holy Graal...” Saoirse covers her face with her palm, totally ashamed.

“I'm pretty sure miss Ronan has already made every single man in this town fall in love with her, madame” Armie gracefully relieves her embarrassment. Unfortunately, Nicole is not satisfied yet.

“But you surely desire to have an heir, Sir! Someone to continue your legacy” she insists. This time, Armie does look at Timmy.

“Actually, my lady, I already have a son. His name is Colin, and he just turned sixteen” the Captain reveals, leaving the hosts speechless. Timmy stares at Armie with wide eyes, his face getting paler every passing second.

“Does he live with you?” Saoirse is curious now.

“No, miss. He was raised by an honest family in Walmer, a few miles from here, since I was always abroad and couldn't take care of him. I only see him when I'm home. He came to visit me a few days ago” Armie tells her. Suddenly, Timothée remembers the boy walking towards him when he had left Pembroke last time: his blonde hair, his long legs... how could Timmy have been so blind and silly? He wasn't Armie's lover, he was his son!

“And where is his mother?” Nicole inquires.

“Unfortunately she passed away delivering the child. We were very young and irresponsible. I will always carry this guilt, madame, as long as I live” Captain Hammer's voice is barely louder than a breath. After this revelation, nobody tells anything for several minutes: the cake is served and then they move to the living room for tea and coffee. While they are discussing about the best way to travel across Europe, Timothée speaks for the first time.

“I recall mentioning the greenhouse to you, Captain. Would you like to see it?” he says quickly, almost in a hurry. His face is a mask of anxiety and hope.

“Of course, if you like” Armie grants him, unable to hide a grin. They leave the house and Timmy feels like he can breath properly again.

The greenhouse is dark, so Timmy has to kindle an oil lamp, which he poses on a small table. He turns around, finding the Captain a few inches away from him: he throws himself into the older man's arms, raising on his tippy toes and clutching his neck.

“I'm so sorry, Armie” Timmy sobs, nuzzling at his jaw.

“Sorry for what, my angel?” the Captain is honestly confused, but he smiles and relishes into the contact.

“For everything you're going through. You're such a good man, you don't deserve this!” Timmy sounds anguished, on the verge of tears. He kisses Armie's jaw, his cheek, his neck, a wave of desire heating his whole body.

“Don't be so worried about me, Timothée. I have a very thick shell” Captain Hammer jokes to lighten the boy's mood. Timmy rests his forehead on the man's chest.

“Please, touch me” he whispers.

“Do I have to remind you that your parents are literally behind the corner?” Armie scolds him, but he is actually quite amused by the boy's sudden audacity.

“I'll be noiseless, I promise!” he begs desperately “Please, please”

Without any other word, Armie lifts Timmy and sits him on the table, moving the oil lamp to the side. He gently pushes the boy backwards until he is lying down with his back on the wooden surface. The Captain unbuttons the boy's trousers, finding his already half-hard shaft and starting stroking it slowly, rubbing his thumb on the smooth head, while kissing his neck. Timmy moans softly, panting and squirming. Armie opens his shirt and finds a tiny, pink nipple: he bites it, then licks it, then bites it again, and again, and again. The boy's moans become more and more loud every passing minute, so Armie has to shut him up by covering Timmy's mouth with his own hand. The sounds of the young Lord's noises are now muffled, but still audible if someone should pass next to the greenhouse in that very moment. Armie chuckles, his other hand working mercilessly on his lover's prick.

“You're so beautiful like this, my precious” he hisses in Timmy's ear, and the praise makes the boy whine and shiver from head to toe. He's close, so close...

“Come for me, my angel” Armie encourages him, and the man's voice together with his skilled hand is enough for Timmy to reach the peak of his pleasure. Luckily, his screams are stifled by the Captain's palm on his mouth; he arches his back, his legs shaking, and lets himself be overwhelmed by sensations. Armie immediately takes his hand away to allow Timmy to inhale properly, and then holds him in his arms, lulling him and kissing his head, his temple.

“I got you, don't be afraid” the Captain reassures his young lover, caressing his back and shoulders.

“I feel so sad and lonely when I'm not with you” Timmy admits, lightly grazing his fingertips on the stubble on Armie's jaw.

“You shouldn't” Captain Hammer looks at him, a very serious expression on his face. “You don't have to delegate your happiness to another person, Timothée. Never. You are the master of your life, you need to find what makes you feel good, and you have to do it on your own” he gives Timmy the same advice his father gave him when he was very young. It worked for him, it will work for Timmy, too. He smiles at the young Lord, who smiles back at him. “We better return to the house, or your cousin will come to interrupt us again” he jokes, remembering that night at Lord Kingstone's ball. Timmy giggles and nods.

_It's you. You make me feel good, Armie._

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have sunglasses and flip-flops ready because in next chapter we will go to the beach!!


	5. A footprint in the sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is changing in both Timmy and the Captain's lives, and a trip to the seaside makes them face their true feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg my wonderful people THANK YOU SO SO MUCH!!!! I'm so overwhelmed by your appreciation and love for this story, I just want to sit in the corner of the room and cry! Well, maybe I'll do it, but first things first: new chapteeeeer!! Enjoy the luuuuv because it was Valentine's day so we deserve some good smutty smut :)

Chapter 5: a footprint in the sand

The day after the dinner with the Captain, Timmy takes a long walk in the opposite direction to Pembroke, just to be sure not to fall into temptation and run straight into the man's arms. He doesn't want to look so desperate.

Two days later, a boy in a blue livery delivers a parcel to Primrose for Lord Timothée: it's a journal with a leather cover, a butterfly engraved in the center of it. The note that comes with it says:

_Now you can record all the details and the colors of your butterflies here._

The note is not signed, but Timmy knows exactly who sent him the present. He has the moral obligation to thank his donor in person, it would be very rude not to do it, so he takes a thorough bath (he likes to be clean), combs his hair as best as he can, and walks towards the estate that belongs to his generous benefactor.

The butler in the golden livery greets him and invites the guest to follow him.

“Oh, thank you but I know where the library is” Timmy smiles politely.

“The Captain is not currently in the library, Sir” the butler informs the young gentleman, raising a hand towards a hallway Timmy has never been. The boy walks behind the butler until they reach a wide, bright room with mirrors on all the four walls, marble floors, painted ceiling; in the middle of the room there are two men, wearing white suits and fencing masks that completely cover their faces. They hold two elegant, thin swords with golden hilts, and are staging a duel. It's like a dance: when the first man takes a step forward, the other one takes a step backwards, and so on, while the colliding of the blades produces a sharp sound that is quite fascinating. It's a wonderful exhibition and Timothée watches them in awe, admiring the skills and the harmony of the movements. One of the men looks at him and stops the duel with a movement of his arm, then he takes the mask away, revealing a familiar face. Timmy's heart skips a beat, or maybe two. Captain Hammer walks towards him with the broadest smile.

“Timothée” he greets his guest.

“Armie” the boy replies, momentarily forgetting how to breath. The other man in white suit gets closer to them and uncovers his head: he has dark skin and big brown eyes, a very exotic appearance. 

“We finished for today, Captain” he says, making a small bow to the unknown boy. 

“Karan, may I introduce you a friend?” Armie says, squeezing a hand on the man's shoulder, showing a certain intimacy that makes Timmy jealous. “This is Lord Timothée Chalamet, from Primrose Lodge. Timothée, this is my dear friend and fellow soldier, Karan Varma” he adds, and the foreign man stretches his hand to shake Timmy's one. 

“I had never seen a duel before” the younger man confesses, totally captivated, “It seems so fascinating!”

“I ensure you it's not so polished when it happens on the battlefield” Karan laughs, white perfect teeth. “Are you interested in learning?” he asks, taking Timmy by surprise.

“Oh well, I don't know... I'm not very inclined towards this kind of activities” the boy replies, blushing lightly, looking away shyly. 

“You'll never know if you never try” Armie winks at him and leans a hand on his back. The spontaneous gesture makes Timmy's stomach shrink and his heartbeat increase.

“I'm pretty sure Sersh will be much better than me in this” Timmy admits and giggles, then he specifies for his new acquaintance: “She's my cousin. She would love that”

“I always feel scared to be close to a woman with a sword” Karan jokes “But it would be interesting to have a girl as a pupil, for a change” 

“I recall you having a couple of ladies taking classes in London” Armie reminds his friend.

“Yes, but you know that life in the capital is very different from life in the countryside. Here women are not so emancipated, unfortunately” Karan deliberates. “Anyway, I have to go. I shall see you in a fortnight, Captain. Try to stay away from troubles” the man pats Armie's chest and they both laugh.

“It's troubles that keep finding me, my friend” Captain Hammer replies.

When they are finally alone in the master bedroom, Armie smiles at Timmy and caresses his cheek.

“I hoped to see you today” he murmurs in the sweetest tone. 

“Did you?” Timmy exhales, eyes shining with expectations.

“Absolutely. I wanted to ask you something” Armie announces, while taking off the white suit. Unfortunately, he has more clothes under it. Quite disappointing.

“Tell me” the young Lord waits for whatever is coming, face already on fire.

“Would you find it uncomfortable if I invited your father to have lunch with me at the club?” the Captain questions him, and Timmy feels like someone had just slapped him for no reason. He frowns.

“My father?”

“Yes, your father” Armie repeats, chuckling “He is an interesting man, we have a lot in common. I think we could get on very well. He is also a very estimated citizen and a men of church, and I need to have a few influent allies in this town”

Timothée leans his back on one of the pillars of the bed, suddenly disconsolate.

“Is this the reason you have become my... friend?” he enquires, eyes on the floor, “To get closer to my family?” his voice almost cracks in the end. Did Armie use him to earn a powerful acquaintance in case of need? Is he planning to do something against the laws of the Kingdom? The Captain takes a long stride and in a second is in front of Timmy.

“No, of course not, my angel” he reassures the boy, cupping his face with his own big hands. “I've become your friend because I like you, very much” he declares, and Timmy's heart almost explodes with joy: he closes his eyes and tilts his chin, expecting -hoping- to be finally kissed. 

A sly smirk appears on Armie's face. “I should punish you for your lack of faith in me” the Captain takes Timmy's wrists and locks his arms around the pillar of the bed, entrapping him and pressing his body against the other man. “Maybe I should tie you like this and leave you here for a few days, naked, with the balcony open, with no food, just to see how long you can resist” he hisses, low husky voice, eyes as two dark blue gems, dangerous and irresistible. Timothée stares at him, scared to the core, but also somehow intrigued by that same fear the Captain can instill into him. His bottom lip trembles and his breath speeds up, heartbeat accelerated and cheeks flushing. He looks like a fawn, innocent and unaware of what awaits him. Captain Hammer laughs unexpectedly: “Relax, my angel, I was just making fun of you” he kisses Timmy's cheek, then his neck, still keeping his wrists clutched behind his back. Timmy relishes into the new sensation of feeling totally at Armie's mercy: he can't move, he can just take whatever the man wants to give him, and give the man everything he wants to take. His prick is already painfully hard in his trousers, and he moans loudly.

“I need you to touch me, Armie, please” he begs, moving his hips closer to the man's thigh, searching for that friction he's longing for. The Captain holds both the boy's wrists in one palm and with his free hand unbuttons Timmy's trousers and takes charge of his pleasure, stroking his throbbing erection and tormenting his neck with hot, wet kisses. Timmy's eyes roll backwards and he opens his mouth, in need of more oxygen, wiggling into the Captain's strong grip. 

“Why are you so beautiful when you are in ecstasy?” Armie whispers, enjoying the sight of the boy's features glowing with delight: his red lips trembling, his eyebrows frowning and then raising, his lashes fanning. He is shivering and moaning freely. The Captain stares at him, completely worship him. “I want to be the only one allowed to see this part of you” he says, and his voice has a dark tone, possessive and jealous. He speeds up the movements of his hand on the young Lord's shaft, and soon he senses Timmy shaking and squirming: he's close to reach the peak of his pleasure. 

“Will you scream when you come for me, my angel?” Armie murmurs, biting the smooth skin on the boy's jaw. Timothée complies without further insistence: he lets himself be totally overwhelmed by the wave of sensations and screams, not caring about the household and what they will think about him. He has decided he just doesn't care.

Armie holds Timmy's spent body in his arms and lays him on the mattress, joining him and lying next to him on the bed. There is silence around them, only their breaths are audible. Shyly, Timothée places an open palm on Armie's chest, perceiving the steady muscles and the soft hairs under the fabric of the shirt.

“Why don't you let me touch you?” he asks. The Captain chuckles.

“You're touching me right now”

“No, I mean... the way you touch me” Timmy makes eye contact. 

“I'm just giving you time to learn. I don't want to rush you into something you could not like” Armie explains him, brushing his thumb on the boy's chin, smiling softly. “I am perfectly satisfied so far: I find my pleasure looking at you finding your pleasure. It's what makes me happy”

Timmy nods, even if he doesn't fully understand.

\---

As the days go on, the last glimpses of winter give way to the warmer, brighter lights of early spring. Flowers bloom all around the countryside, and it's a joy to take long walks in the morning or after lunch and sensing all the scents and the colors, the buzzing of the bees and the twittering of the birds.

It's during one of those lazy, endless days that someone knocks at the door of Primrose Lodge to deliver a big, pawing gift.

“For God's sake, what is this frenzy?” Lord Chalamet runs outside to join the other members of the family in the forecourt: Nicole, Saoirse and Timmy are admiring and petting a wonderful black foal. His fur shines under the sun, and he seems friendly and well mannered. The kids laugh with joy, especially when the foal licks their hands, looking for food. The man who brought the little horse explains that he has already been trained, and he is not aggressive; he needs to be fed properly and groomed in a certain way to keep his fur healthy.

“His name is Hephaestion” the man reveals, giving Timothée a note.

“Like Alexander the Great's first general?” Timmy remembers reading their story on a book when he was younger.

“You mean his _lover_ ” Saoirse corrects him with a clever wink that makes her cousin blush furiously. Timmy opens the note with discretion, because he already has a suspect about who could have sent the present. The note says:

_May your heart gallop free and confident towards the horizon of your destiny, my angel._

As always, the note has no signature. Timmy brings the piece of paper on his mouth and kisses it.

A few days later, another surprise comes to Primrose: a tall, handsome gentleman breaks the monotony of the Chalamet family, gathered in the patio after breakfast. He is carrying a bag on his shoulder and two golden hilts are clearly visible, suggesting he has swords with him.

“Karan!” Timmy greets the man, while Marc stands up from his armchair and peers at the new guest with curiosity.

“Good morning, Sir. I don't think we have been introduced” Lord Chalamet smiles politely and shakes the man's hand.

“My name is Karan Varma, Sir. Your son and I have a mutual friend. I'm a fencing trainer and I've been told that there are two young people in this house who could make a good use of my presence” the foreign man reveals with a kind smile. Marc raises his eyebrows and looks at Timmy, who shrugs and grins, faking innocence. Saoirse bounces and claps her hands.

“Holy Graal, please uncle please can we?” she begs, unable to hide her enthusiasm. Nicole nods at her husband, giving her approval.

“Well, I guess I could make use of your presence too, even if I'm not young anymore” Marc jokes, glancing at his son as to say _We will discuss about this later._

They start taking fencing classes every fortnight.

\---

Lord Chalamet receives a formal invitation for a lunch at the gentlemen's club downtown from Captain Hammer. He replies with an equally formal confirmation.

The two men seem to get on very well: they enjoy the food and talk about a wide range of subjects: from politics to travels, from their experience with war to their shared struggles with being fathers, though their situations are quite different, since Armie hasn't raised his child personally, but he has delegated the task to someone else. Lord Chalamet taps the napkin on his lips, then clears his throat.

“I have no intention of prying into your friendship with my son, Captain” he starts, and Armie feels suddenly nervous. “But you should know that my plans for Timothée have not changed: he has responsibilities as he will become the next Lord of Primrose Lodge, one day. I will turn a blind eye on all these _distractions_ he is going through right now, because he is still young, but he will turn twenty-one next december, and that means he will be legally a man. That's when his training will begin, and as much as it sounds mean and ungrateful to say, I would prefer his visits to your estate to become less frequent, as to allow him to focus on his duties. I'm sure you understand, Captain” Marc concludes, a tiny smile on his face. Armie stares at him with a blank expression, carefully considering his next words.

“I care about Timothée very much, Sir, and I will gladly step aside, _if_ this is what Timmy wants, but it has to be his choice and only his one” the man clarifies, trying to sound as calm as he can manage. 

“You know that he is very fond of you, Captain. He looks at you like a role model, someone who came from poverty and built his own fortune with hard work and sacrifice. I have a great esteem of you, too” Marc reassures the man sit in front of him, but his gaze is deep and serious as he speaks. “However, Timmy's situation is well different from yours: he doesn't have to work to earn money, because my father and my grandfather before him have already worked to leave us an heritage. That doesn't mean Timmy is exempted from responsibilities: he has an estate to run, he has tenants to listen to, he has a legacy to honor. He has a duty towards his family, to find a suitable wife and give us an heir, with some help from God” Marc smiles, then drinks some water. Captain Hammer frowns.

“And what about Timmy's desires, his dreams, his projects? Have you asked him if that's what he wants?” he bursts out, immediately regretting it. Marc doesn't seem bothered.

“My son has a fervid imagination, Sir. He wants to travel around the world; he wants to study nature and animals; he wants to play music. But the truth is that, as all the young people, he has no idea how life works. He has dreams that are too big for reality. And as my only son, he will have to put them aside eventually, and embrace his destiny” Lord Chalamet concludes. Armie doesn't reply this time. Instead, he strategically changes the subject:

“I know doctor Wilson has advised to send Timmy to spend a few weeks to the sea, with the purpose of strengthen his health” 

“He did, indeed” Marc looks surprised by the Captain's concern. Armie raises his hand to call the attendant, and orders two coffees and two slices of the best cake they have. The attendant nods and immediately runs towards the kitchen.

“It just so happens that I own a property in Deal, a cottage next to the seaside. It's small, but comfortable enough. I will take a short vacation there, before I leave England for my business abroad. Just a couple of weeks, not more. Maybe I could bring Timothée with me, so he can spend a few days on the beach, enjoying the sun, learn how to swim even” Armie shrugs and grins, making it seem like he doesn't really care if Marc will say yes or not (while he has actually been planning this for days).

“This is truly kind of you, Captain. I have no words to express my gratitude” Lord Chalamet is positively impressed by the man's generosity. Meanwhile, coffee and cakes are served at their table: Armie digs his forks into the dough.

“As I said, I really care about your son's health and well-being, Sir. This is not a big sacrifice for me. And it could be a chance for Timmy to enjoy one last holiday before his birthday, to have some memories to save for when he will be too busy doing his _duty_ ” the Captain states, hoping that the sarcasm of the last sentence won't be too explicit to detect. The only idea of Timmy having a wife, sleeping with her, gives Armie nausea. The two men eat the cake and enjoy their coffees.

“It will be a little complicated to convince my wife. She's very protective towards our son” Marc states when his cup is empty “But I suppose it can be arranged, Captain. If you promise me to always keep an eye on Timmy, to avoid him to get himself in trouble”

Armie smirks: “No need to doubt it, my Lord: I swear my eyes will never leave Timothée, not even for a minute”

\--- 

The day of the departure, the Captain's carriage enters the gate of Primrose at 2:00pm, as they agreed, to pick Timmy up, so they will be at the cottage by dinner time. The household is already there, waiting for the Captain and his guest; Danitza is also there, excited by the idea of cooking fresh seafood, for a change. Timothée has a couple of small trunks: they go on the back of the carriage with the rest of the stuff. They will stay at the cottage for two weeks, and will spend most of the time on the beach, so they don't need too many changes of clothes. 

“Please, be careful!” Nicole can't stop hugging and kissing her son, crying as if he was about to leave for war. Marc rolls his eyes while Saoirse giggles, hand over her mouth.

“ _Maman,_ I beg you, stop” Timmy whines, trying to free himself, “I will probably not even get close to the water. I'll stay on the sand, reading, collecting stones” he tells her to calm her down, but she keeps weeping, caressing her son's face.

Armie gets out of the carriage to say goodbye, and the cuteness of the scene makes him grin widely.

“My Lady, I promise you he will be supervised every minute” the Captain reassures Nicole, “I will even restrain him, if I have to” he murmurs, looking straight at Timmy, whose eyes widen and mouth gapes in shock. Did Armie really say that in front of his parents?!

“Oh Captain, take care of my child. Don't let him drown!” Nicole cries loudly, and Armie takes her hands in his own.

“Madame, as much as possible, it's really difficult to drown in two and a half feet of water” Captain Hammer tells her with the sweetest tone of voice he can manage. Saoirse has to muffle a loud laugh.

When they are finally into the carriage, Timmy scolds Armie for being so unashamed, but they end up laughing about it. They sit in front of each other, and for the first half of the journey, everything seems fine; after a while, however, Timmy can't stand the distance anymore, so he moves forward and in a second he is on Armie's lap, straddling his hips, assaulting his neck and biting the soft skin there. 

“What do you think you're doing?” the Captain chuckles, pretending to be annoyed, actually enjoying the whole situation. Since when had the boy become so bold? 

“I want to do to you what you do to me” Timothée rushes to reply, too busy starting to unbutton Armie's shirt. The man takes Timmy's hands in his own and kisses the knuckles one by one. 

“All in good time, my angel. Let's get to the cottage first, and I promise we will do whatever you want” the Captain reassures his young lover, smiling sweetly, kissing his palms, his wrists, lightly sucking his fingers. Timmy closes his eyes and inhales deeply; he leans his head on Armie's shoulder, their chests glued together, two hearts beating fast under their skin. 

“I don't want to go back home, Sir. I want to be with you forever” the boy whispers softly, relishing into the embrace. Armie holds him tight, but doesn't reply.

The cottage is small, but lovely: the frames of the windows are blue, the furniture is minimal and there is a tiny fireplace in the living room. Flowers everywhere, so the rooms smell like the greenhouse. Timmy suspects Armie did it on purpose, so he won't be missing his butterflies. Two attendants arrange their trunks while the Captain shows the house and the back garden to his guest; their fingers brush several times as they walk next to each other around the yard. Dinner is served at 7:00 pm: seafood chowder, garlic bread and apple pie. Everything is so delicious that both the men take a second portion of each dish. They giggle and laugh and make plans for the days to come. Timmy squeezes the Captain's hand on the table, only releasing it when the waiters enter the room, blushing and looking away. 

When they go upstairs to get ready for the night, Timmy is sure his heart is going to explode into his chest: he doesn't exactly know what he should expect, but he  _knows_ there is more than what they currently do when they are alone; there is a tiny part of his brain which knows that their bodies have more to offer to each other than just the touch of a hand; he somehow feels like he needs more, he wants more. More pleasure, more closeness, more intimacy. More pain even, if that's what makes Armie happy. He would do anything to keep Armie bound to him. He will do anything Armie asks him to do.

“This is your room, you'll sleep here” Armie opens a door and shows Timmy a bedroom: his trunks are already in a corner, ready to be unpacked. The boy frowns deeply.

“What about you?” Timmy enquires, confused.

“I'll be right there” the Captain points at the door right in front of the bedroom. “You can wake me up if you need anything” he cups the young man's face and kisses his forehead.

“But... I thought that...” Timmy tries to make his point, but he doesn't even have the time to finish his sentence that Armie has already left the room and closed the door behind himself. Timothée stares at the void for a few minutes, hurt, wondering what he did wrong.

_ He just doesn't like me anymore. _

\--- 

The beach of Deal is wonderful: soft sand, blue waters, a trail of stones shining under the sun of mid-spring. Tiny waves chase each other and crush softly on the shore. 

Captain Hammer spreads a blanket on a spot on the beach where the stones are smaller, so they won't hurt the two men's flesh when they sit down. Timmy peeks at him in silence; he hasn't spoken a word during breakfast, still hurt by Armie's coldness the night before. The Captain starts unbuttoning his shirt, and Timmy's brain becomes like porridge at the thought of finally seeing the man's body. When the shirt lands on the blanket, Timmy's eyes try to catch every single detail of Armie's chest: his blonde hairs, his pink nipples, his sculpted muscles, his strong biceps, his belly button. There are several scars on his skin, unwanted memories of the battlefield; some of them are small and fair, some others are long and dark, especially one just below his ribs. Timmy's heart shrinks: is this the reason Armie never took his clothes off during their encounters? Is it because he was ashamed of his scars? Did he think Timothée would have felt disgusted seeing them? Because he definitely would not. He could never dislike anything about Armie. He would kiss those scars one by one, right here and right now.

“See something you like?” the Captain's voice wakes the boy up abruptly, interrupting his fantasies. Timmy jolts and looks up at the man's face.

“No, I mean, yes... I mean... sorry, I was staring at you, that's very rude” the boy rambles awkwardly and blushes. Armie chuckles.

“There is something going on under those curls. Can I be informed about it?” he jokes.

“It's private” Timmy makes a little, mysterious smirk and glances away. The Captain gets closer, slowly, dangerously closer.

“Oh, _it's private_ he says” the man breaths out, face serious, dark gaze... then unexpectedly starts tickling Timmy's sides, between his ribs and his hips, causing the boy to shriek with surprise and laugh madly.

“No, Armie please stop!” Timmy begs between laughs, but the Captain is merciless, keeping tickling and pinching the boy's skin, laughing himself. They end up falling backwards on the blanket, panting and coughing lightly for the exertion, Armie on top of Timmy. They look at each other in silence, still breathless.

“I'm so happy” Timothée murmurs, delicately grazing his fingertips on Armie's temple, his cheek, his ear shell. Their noses collide; their mouths are almost touching. Timmy is going to be kissed, finally.

“I thought you wanted to learn how to swim” the Captain says suddenly and stands up, leaving Timmy on the ground. He stretches an arm and offers the boy his hand to help him getting up. Timmy takes off his shirt (so now they are both only wearing their underpants) and then the two men walk towards the shore: Armie immediately dives in the sea, the water is cold but not unbearable, and it's incredibly clear, they can see the sand on the bottom. Timmy stays on the shore, only his feet in the water, and watches the Captain taking a quick swim and coming back a few moments later.

“Come on, I'm here, don't be scared” Armie invites the boy to join him, sweetly taking his hands and walking backwards, slowly dragging Timmy further into the sea, until the water covers them to the hips. Armie tries to explain the boy the mechanics of swimming and floating, but Timmy is too distracted to focus right now. He has other plans. 

“How did you get this one?” the young Lord skims his fingers on the longest scar on Armie's side. The man takes his hand away with more roughness than he meant to.

“Believe me, you don't want to hear it” he just replies dryly, raising his eyebrows. Timmy frowns and takes a tiny step forward.

“Yes, I do! I want to hear it, Armie. I want to know everything about you! I want you to talk to me about the war, about your childhood, your travels, about the people you loved” the boy demands, showing a fierce gaze.

“I already told you: love is for fools and poets, Timothée” the Captain reminds him their conversation in the park, when they were lying on the grass after their first lunch together.

“So I must be a big fool, then, because I love you” Timmy declares, blushing, a shy smile on his face. He is shivering, but the cold water has nothing to do with that. He stares into the Captain's eyes, waiting for him to speak, hoping to receive a positive answer. Armie looks back at him, a pained expression straining his beautiful features: he seems lost in thoughts, seems to be struggling to keep himself in one piece. As strong as he is, he could crumble down right now. Seconds become minutes, until he finally reacts; he slides his palms along Timmy's arms, his biceps, his neck, ending up cupping his cheeks, brushing his own thumbs on the smooth, chill skin there.

“You don't know what you're talking about” he whispers, his voice somehow feeble. 

“I'm not a child, Armie” young Lord Chalamet states, “I stopped being a child the moment I met you” he confesses, closing his eyes and leaning into the familiar touch.

“I'm glad I brought something good in your life, Timothée, and even if I tried to ignore my emotions, I must admit that I've become rather... fond of you, recently” the Captain admits, babbling slightly, trying to find the right words to express his feelings without actually use the _L_ word. He's not ready to show his weakness, yet.

“Will you kiss me now, Armie?” Timmy asks then. He will beg if he has to. Captain Hammer gives a quick glance around, scanning the beach and the cottages peeking out from the hills. The two of them are alone at the moment, but someone else could come to the beach to take a walk and see them. It would be dangerous, especially for Timmy. 

“Not here. Come with me” Armie takes the boy's hand and starts walking out of the water, then towards some caves hidden between the short cliffs just a few meters from the beach. They enter a cave, being very careful not to hurt their feet on the sharp stones; there is a hole in the roof, and the rays of the sun throw flashes of light all around. It's breathtaking. Armie stops and turns around to face Timmy: he pinches the boy's chin, parting his trembling lips.

“Will you give yourself to me?” the Captain questions his lover, voice thick with arousal, “Not only your body, but your heart, your thoughts, your desires”

“Everything” Timmy nods, a tear already leaving the corner of his eye and falling down his cheek. “You can have everything, Armie. My body, my soul... and about my heart, well, it's always been yours, always” he says with dreamy eyes. 

The Captain can't take it anymore: he attacks Timmy's lips with his own, kissing him with a burning passion, opening the boy's mouth with his own tongue and digging inside the warm little space, licking his palate, his teeth; their tongues fighting desperately, searching for more contact, more more more...

When they finally part, no one remembers how to breath properly: they pant and laugh, chests raising and lowering frantically. Armie moves, and Timmy expects another kiss: instead, the taller man falls on his knees in front of the boy and starts loosening the waist of his underpants.

“Armie, what are you doing?” Timothée giggles nervously, looking towards the entrance of the cave: anyone could see them from the outside.

“Don't be scared, my angel” the Captain slowly undresses his lover, “I've been dreaming of doing this since the moment I laid my eyes on you” he reveals, and then he does something Timmy would have never imagined it was possible.

“Oh my God!” the boy shouts out the moment his prick disappears into Armie's mouth: he looks down in complete, utter astonishment, eyes wide and jaw dropping. He has never been so in shock in his whole life. Armie cups the boy's buttocks with his own palms and moves Timmy's hips in rhythm with his own mouth: the sensation is pure ecstasy, nothing they have done so far is even barely comparable to this. Timmy lifts his head, shuts his eyes closed and screams, because there is nothing else he could do in that moment. His thighs are already shaking, and he knows what that means. Luckily the Captain's hands are holding him steadily, and his strong arms will catch the boy if he should fall.

“Oh my God, I'm going to... I'm going to die” Timmy spontaneously intertwines his fingers into Armie's blonde hair and pulls lightly, feeling his head moving back and forth on his erected shaft. Timmy opens his eyes and the sight of what Armie is doing to him is enough to send him right on the edge of his pleasure. He moans, whines; tears are wetting his cheeks, because the happiness he is experiencing in that moment is so totalizing, so overpowering, so absolute, that the only reaction his body knows is crying. 

“Armie!” he yells and pulls at his lover's hair to alert him that he's going to leak into his mouth. The Captain seems unbothered, so he keeps working on the shaft with his tongue and his lips, sucking faster and faster until Timmy can't resist a second further and he comes, arching his back, his body shaking violently, screaming his pleasure out loud with the walls of the cave echoing him. The muscles in his legs legitimately give up and he is about to fall, but Armie holds his spent body and slowly leans the boy on the ground next to himself, hugging him and kissing his cheek.

“My beautiful, precious angel” the Captain murmurs into Timmy's hair. The boy sighs.

“It will be worth it to go to hell, if I can have this in return”

\--- 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this was day ONE. Seriously, these two should really get a grip and find a hobby xD


	6. A matter of pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A secret risks to ruin the boy's holiday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!! THANK YOU sooo much for all your love and support!!! Really I don't have any word to express my gratitude :) So, this chapter is shorter that the other ones, because there were already so many emotions to process that I decided to cut it in two, which means what I planned to happen into next chapter will be delayed in a following chapter and so on... this story will probably end up having 66 chapters xD  
> WARNING: mention of drugs and sex issues

Chapter 6: a matter of pride

After dinner, Captain Hammer and his guest sit on the sofa in the living room, enjoying the warmth coming from the fireplace (nights are still quite cold, even if it's spring). Armie has taken a book from the shelf and he's now reading romantic poems to Timothée, who looks at him with dreamy eyes, unable to focus properly on the words since he is still thinking about what has happened in the cave a few hours earlier: it was the most incredible sensation he has ever felt, and Timmy wonders if Armie has learned how to do it when he lived with the savages. That's definitely not a thing British people do. He hopes there will be an  _encore_ in bed, later. 

“Oh, that's my favorite part” the Captain suddenly breaks his lover's daydream, then reads:

_In secret we met –_ _  
_ _In silence I grieve,_ _  
_ _That thy heart could forget,_ _  
_ _Thy spirit deceive._ _  
_ _If I should meet thee_ _  
_ _After long years,_ __  
_How should I greet thee? –_ _  
_ _With silence and tears._

“That's very sad” Timmy observes. Armie smiles at him.

“It is indeed, my angel. Lord Byron wrote it when the woman he loved chose another man over him. He was my age when he died. Such a waste, as he could have given so much more to art!” the Captain has little fires in his pupils as he speaks. He is always so passionate when he talks about subjects as art and history and nature... that's one of the reasons Timothée loves him. He loves him, and he said it out loud, and Armie somehow had said it back. And even if he didn't say it explicitly, Timmy knew his love was reciprocated: he could see it in the Captain's behavior, his gestures, his eyes when he looked at the boy. _Eyes never lie,_ his cousin Saoirse had said once, and now Timmy could verify for himself that it was true. He shivers at the thought that Armie will leave the Country in just four weeks. Suddenly the few inches of gap between them seem like a mile distance.

“May I come closer?” Timothée's voice is barely a breath. Armie smiles, lays the book on the sofa and opens his arms in the sweetest invitation. The young Lord doesn't wait a second spare: he throws himself into the Captain's embrace, straddling him, leaning his head on the man's shoulder. Armie chuckles.

“If this is the effect of poems, I will read them to you every night” he jokes, caressing the boy's limbs, pecking his forehead and cheek.

“Do you really have to go abroad for so long?” Timmy mutters, his nose glued on Armie's neck. “I don't want you to go”

“I know, and I wish I could delay the journey to be with you, but the investors are asking for solid evidence about the success of my trades, and I have to be there in person to check that their money are not being dissipated” the Captain sighs with genuine sadness. He would really spare himself the trouble for a while, now that there is an actual reason for him to stay in England for longer than usual.

“You could bring me with you” the boy suggests, acting innocently (while he would really, really love to join Armie in his adventures around the world). The Captain tightens his hold on Timmy.

“You have no idea how much I would like to, my precious! But you forget you're not twenty-one yet, and if I take you with me abroad, your parents could claim that it was against their consent, and that would put both of us in very serious troubles” Armie explains patiently. They relish in the heat of the small room; the household have already dismiss themselves for the night, so the whole cottage is surrounded by silence. 

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” Timothée takes a chance, hoping to get lucky. 

“I think it's better not” Armie stiffens a bit under the younger man's body. Timmy lifts his head to look at his lover.

“Why?” he whimpers, pouting dramatically, “My room is so cold, I can't sleep properly!”

“I'll tell the housemaids to add more blankets to your bed” Armie smirks, detecting the cute lie. He kisses Timmy's lips with tenderness, but not long enough to start something deeper: he knows the boy's eagerness. 

“I promise I'll be a saint” Timmy tries again “Please”

“I know myself, and I will not be a saint, not in the slightest, and tomorrow we will both regret it” the Captain chuckles while starting moving to get up from the couch. “Come on, my angel, it's late” he offers a hand to Timmy, who holds it and follows the man upstairs without further insistence. He doesn't understand what Armie meant by that: what is there to regret about? Was he talking about what they did in the cave? Was Armie feeling guilty, or remorseful, or even worse: disgusted? The only thought makes Timmy want to sob. When they reach the end of the hallway, where their two bedrooms are, they part with a soft kiss.

\---

The following morning, Timothée is expecting to go to the sea again, but Armie excuses himself right after breakfast, saying he has some letters to write, suggesting Timmy to go alone, since he knows the short way to the beach by now. 

“I'm not going without you” Timmy insists, crossing his arms on his chest. The Captain slides his palms on the boy's shoulders, to soothe him.

“Alright, so why don't you go with Danitza? She's headed to the harbour to buy some fresh seafood. You haven't seen that part of the town yet. It could be fun” Armie kisses Timmy's nose, “We can go to the beach when you come back”

“Yes, Sir” Timothée grunts with annoyance, bending his lips in an adorable pout. The Captain can't resist the temptation to kiss him, and this time is not a quick peck: it's a real kiss, with tongues battling and teeth biting and lips daring, and it doesn't stop until Armie detects a low moan coming from his lover. He interrupts the contact and tries to catch his breath. They are both panting heavily, cheeks flushed, arms around each other waist. It's amazing how their bodies fit so perfectly together, even being so different. 

“I shall see you later, my little emerald. Enjoy your day” Armie says, smiling fondly.

Timothée escorts Danitza to the market at the harbour: he offers her his arm, and they walk together through the town, laughing and looking at the shop windows. Timmy wants to buy a present for Armie, to take with him during his time abroad.

The harbour is a kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, noises and smells (not all of them pleasant). The fishermen have their little kiosks set by early morning, and the buyers yell while trying to make a bargain, asking for cheaper prices. Danitza manages to get four sea bass and a small octopus for a sixpence, but only because the fisherman was distracted by her generous breast popping out of her corset. Timmy giggles when she admits she did it on purpose.

“Men have guns, women have booby” she winks at the boy.

They part on Main street an hour later, Danitza goes back home while Timmy takes another walk in the town center. He spots a goldsmith's workshop and decides to glance inside: it's a tiny place, a table showing all the wonderful creations of the unknown artisan. The boy admires the jewels on the wooden surface, some of them are made of plain golden, other have gems embedded; Timmy smiles remembering Armie calling him _my little emerald_ that morning. Maybe he should buy something with an emerald! He peers at the pocket watches, because it's the most appropriate present for a man, even though quite expensive, but Timmy doesn't care about money, he just wants to see Armie smile. An elderly man appears from a side room.

“Good morning, Sir” he welcomes his customer. Timmy makes a polite bow.

“Good morning. I'm looking for a gift for someone special” he announces. The old goldsmith smirks.

“Oh, you mean like an engagement ring? Because I have a wide range of choices” he waves his hand towards the corner of the table where all the rings are displayed. Timothée shakes his head.

“They're really beautiful, Sir, but I was talking about a present for a man, well, a friend” he specifies, blushing subtly, “He's going to leave the Country soon and I want him to have something to remind him of our friendship” he tells the man, who narrows his eyes for a moment, seeming lost in thoughts.

“Does this friend have particular taste for watches, or cufflinks maybe?” the old artisan enquires, but he only earns a shrug from the boy as an answer. “Mmh... I know that the last fashion in London is give friends something very personal, like a lock of hair. Sure it's very weird, but what can I say?” the man raises his eyebrows and chuckles. Timmy grins at him.

“That's actually a clever idea. Would it be possible to have a lock of my hair hidden into a pendant? Something small and simple, nothing too fancy”

The goldsmith rummages through the shelves and retrieves a metallic coffer, opening it in front of the young customer; he shows Timmy a golden oval pendant, not too big or flashy, which has a little hollow inside it.

“I can engrave your headletters on the surface, and your hair will go here, very well concealed” the man opens the pendant to reveal the secret cavity.

“It's perfect. Thank you, Sir! When will it be ready?” Timmy is absolutely enthusiastic about his purchase, and he can't wait to see Armie's face when he will receive it.

“I need a couple of days for the carving. Please, write your initials here. About your hair, uhm...” he coughs awkwardly.

“Oh, yes, sure” Timmy gets the hint after a few seconds “Do you have a pair of scissors, Sir?” he asks shyly. The goldsmith gives Timmy the tool and the boy cuts one of his dark curls; the man puts the lock and the pendant in a safe place, then scribbles the price on a piece of paper, expecting for his young customer to negotiate: instead, Timmy reaches for his purse and gives the man the amount of money he proposed, plus a little tip for his kindness.

“Thank you, Sir, that's very generous of you” the old man seems truly impressed and grateful. Timothée says goodbye and leaves the shop.

While walking back towards the cottage, a signboard with a dragon attracts Timmy's attention: it's a pub, a place where people go to drink and play cards. The young Lord has never been in a pub, it's a forbidden venue for him, since his father has taught him that both alcohol and gambling are sins. Timmy stops a few feet from the door of the pub, fidgeting, tortured by curiosity and thrilled by the prospect of disobeying his _papa_ for the first time. He waits to find the guts to walk in, bites his nails nervously, decides to give up, then changes his mind and finally gathers some courage and enters the pub: the smell of cheap beer and cigars fills his nostrils immediately. He sits on a table in a corner and orders a tea; the waitress looks at the strange boy as he had a third eye in the middle of his forehead, but she brings him the tea pot and a cup nonetheless. Timmy sips his tea while glancing at the other customers: a few men are already wasted drunk, others are focused on their cards, shouting out blasphemies when they lose. There are some girls walking around the tables, talking to the clients, sometimes sitting on their laps, acting very friendly. From time to time, one of the girls leads a man upstairs, and they disappear for a while. Timothée wonders what's the reason of it. He thinks this place is not so bad as his father has told him, well, except for the swearing and the unpleasant smell. He leaves a shilling on the table for the service and is about to stand up and go away, when a beautiful girl with ginger hair and ivory skin sits down next to him.

“Hello, you. Will you buy me a drink?” she twits, fanning her lashes seductively and smiling. Timmy blushes furiously.

“Good morning, madame. Uhm... what kind of drink do you want me to buy?” he enquires, making her giggle.

“Well, I was thinking about a beer, or a bottle of red wine, or whisky” she gives multiple options to the boy, who looks displeased.

“I'm afraid I can't help you madame, since I strongly believe alcohol it's dangerous for a person's body and mind, and a sin, too” he explains her gravely. She seems confused for a moment, but then she smiles again, moving closer to the young man along the bench.

“You're right, Sir, I shouldn't ruin my body by drinking. Do you think I'm pretty enough, Sir?” the girl questions him, straightening her back to give him a better view of her breast. Timmy scans the girl from head to toe and smiles politely.

“I think when God made you, he didn't skimp on giving you all the beauty and grace, madame” he compliments the young lady with candor. She giggles loudly.

“Aw, that's the sweetest thing I've ever been told!” she leans forward and kisses Timmy's cheek, making him blush even more. “My name is Eve. What's yours?”

“I'm Timothée. Timmy, actually” he keeps his eyes down, too shy to look at her after that unexpected kiss.

“Are you here on holiday, Timmy?” she chirps and tucks her hair behind an ear.

“Yes, a friend of mine is hosting me for a couple of weeks” the boy reveals, “He owns a cottage not too far from here”

“Uh, a cottage! So fancy. I wish I had one” Eve says with a dreamy gaze. “Who is your friend? Maybe I know him” she winks, clearly implying something else that Timmy doesn't catch.

“It's Captain Hammer, from Pembroke Hall” the young Lord replies. He looks baffled when Eve gapes at him and then giggles again, louder. She turns around on the bench and lifts an arm, trying to get someone's attention.

“Sibyl! Claire! Come here, quick!” she yells, and two other women join them at the table a moment later. “You'll never guess who's back in town... Captain Hammer!” she exclaims laughing. The other two women make a shocked face.

“Shut up. How do you know about it?” the older lady enquires.

“This lovely boy is his guest” Eve leans a hand on Timmy's shoulder and nods to her friends conspiratorially. She looks at the boy: “Everybody knows the Captain around here, but our Claire was very _close_ to him once” the girl points at the other woman sit in front of them, who raises her eyebrows sarcastically.

“Yeah, we enjoyed each other's company for a while... until his prick has stopped working, so he didn't need my services anymore” she blurts out. All the three women laugh savagely. Timmy is staring at them with wide eyes; his palms are sweating.

“How can a man live with a useless, limp cock?” the other woman mocks the Captain.

“His life must be so sad” Eve adds, then turns back to Timmy: “I heard he was shot in his balls, and now he can't please anyone, not even himself! Poor man” she whines, pouting, pretending to be sympathetic. Timothée feels the bile surging from his stomach to his throat: could it be true? Are they just making fun of him? Why say something so cruel about Armie? He is the kindest man in the whole world. Even if... Timmy ponders over all the times Armie didn't want to be touched, or the fact that he doesn't want to sleep in the same bed with Timmy. They could be all coincidences, of course: maybe the Captain is just giving him time to learn, to feel comfortable. That's definitely something Armie would do, because he is patient and compassionate and generous. No, these ladies are lying, they're just kidding, it's all a vile joke. Timmy gets up abruptly.

“I'm sorry, I have to go” he quickly dismisses himself and runs away. He takes deep, slow breaths once he is outside the pub; his eyes water with no reason. He rubs his hands on his face, trying to calm down. He starts walking as fast as he can, but his legs are shaking; he leans on a wall and closes his eyes, focusing on the only thing that matters now: going back to the cottage and face the truth, any truth Armie will tell him.

When Timothée gets to the cottage, he goes straight to the room that Armie uses as an office: he opens the door and storms inside, finding the Captain sit on an armchair, reading a newspaper.

“You're back” Armie smiles with relief at the sight of the boy, “How was your morning? I hope you enjoyed it” he barely finishes talking that Timmy is on his lap, kissing him frantically, unbuttoning his shirt with shaking hands.

“What is this rush, my angel?” the Captain chuckles.

“I want to touch you, Armie, please” the younger man whispers, aiming at the Captain's belt: he starts fiddling with the buckle, but the other man grabs his wrists firmly.

“Timothée, stop. You're not ready yet” he commands, staring into the boy's eyes. A series of emotions cross Timmy's face: surprise, hurt, rage, pain.

“So is it true?” he says frowning.

“What? What is it true? What are you talking about?” Armie tries to understand, worried and confused. Timmy looks at him in silence for a minute, none of them moving a muscle.

“I've been in a pub, Armie. A lady claimed she knows you. She said... she said your _pendulum_ doesn't work anymore” the boy reveals, not daring to keep the eye contact. Armie feels his stomach fell on the floor; he is getting paler any passing second. He releases Timmy's wrists and sighs.

“This is not how you should have found it out” he confesses, and Timmy raises his head, eyes wide, breath stuck in his throat. “I mean, I would have told you, eventually, just not like this. It's not... it's not entirely true. It does work, sometimes, not all the times. I suppose it depends by the person I'm with” Armie smiles, shaking his head, embarrassed.

“Is it my fault, then?” Timmy murmurs, a tear falling from his eye and landing on the fabric of his vest, disappearing into it. “It's because of me?”

“What? No, no no!” the Captain hugs him tight, “No, my angel, it's not your fault! You are the most precious, wonderful thing that ever happened to me, I promise!” he pets Timmy's hair, kisses his cheek, his forehead, the tip of his nose. “You are a miracle”

“So why didn't you tell me the truth?” Timothée disentangles himself from the embrace, seeming raged.

“Well, it's not like something I usually talk about. You know how proud I am” Armie looks down, rubs a hand on his jaw nervously. “I was planning to tell you about it when... I don't know, I had to find the right words first, I guess”

“Find them now” Timmy hisses, his lips forming a hard line, his nostrils trembling. He never felt so angry before, it's a new emotion for him, and he doesn't exactly know how to manage it. The Captain closes his eyes and rests his head on the back of the armchair.

“Eight years ago, I was seriously injured during a battle” he takes Timmy's right hand and leans it on his own side, just below his ribs. “That was when I earned this scar, the one you asked me about yesterday. The doctor patched me up as best as he could, but the pain was unbearable. I was literally losing my mind, so when I came back I went to a doctor in Oxford and he prescribed me laudanum. Do you know what it is?” the Captain questions his young friend. Timmy nods: he remembers Nicole taking the same medication to calm her nerves after her parents died. He was just a child, but the memories of his mother gulping down that smelly syrup are glued on his mind. Armie continues his story: “So you know how it works: it takes away the pain, but it also intoxicates your mind and your body. I took it for years, and in huge quantities, together with alcohol and other substances, until I realized it had some side effects, included preventing me from feeling aroused. I stopped taking the laudanum, but sometimes it still causes me troubles. Not all the times, but most of them” the Captain caresses Timmy's cheeks; a fond, vulnerable expression making his face somehow softer. “I didn't want to disappoint you. I was terrified you would have left me the moment you knew it”

“Left you? Why should I leave you, Armie?” Timmy doesn't understand. The Captain chuckles bitterly.

“Perhaps it's not an issue now, because you're still discovering your body, your needs. But I assure you it will be a big problem eventually, when we will both demand for _more_ ” he explains his young, unexperienced lover. “I would accept your decision, anyway, whatever it may be”

Timothée's head is spinning under the burden of all those new information: he tries to make order in his brain, tries to catch the hidden meanings, tries to acknowledge his own role in this. But everything he's experiencing now, is pain and anger. How can Armie have such a low opinion of Timmy's emotions, of his love and affection towards him? How can he not see them? Timmy clenches his jaw, then takes a deep breath.

“Armie, I just went against all my beliefs, against everything my parents have taught me, only to be with you! Are you really so stubborn you don't realize how much I care about you, how much I love you? Why do you think I'm here? To see the ocean? To escape from my family for a while? I'm here because my life is better when you're around” he declares, leaning forward and resting his body on top of Armie, head on the man's shoulder, while the Captain holds him as tight as is physically possible.

“May I consider myself forgiven, then?” Armie asks with a smile. Timmy doesn't reply straight away: his eyelids are heavy, he is exhausted for being crying. He just wants this day to end.

“Can we go to bed? Please. I don't want to go to the beach today. I don't want to go anywhere” the boy pleads.

“Of course, my angel. Anything you want” the Captain grants him. They go upstairs, enter the master bedroom, and Armie closes the window to make the place darker and more comfortable for the incoming nap. Timmy starts unbuttoning the Captain's shirt without saying a word: he nuzzles at the light hairs on the man's chest, smiling, a sigh of contentment escaping his lips.

“I want to do to you what you did to me into the cave” Timmy expresses his desire. Armie releases a soft moan, and it's everything the boy needs to take some courage and act: he gently pushes his lover towards the bed, inviting him to lie down; then he unfastens his belt, opens his trousers and slides them down along Armie's thighs, his legs; he takes off his shoes and socks, freeing the man from any clothes he was wearing. Now Captain Hammer is naked, and even if there is dim light into the room, Timmy can finally see the man's body in all his glory. He's perfect, stunning, sensual. The boy's guts are on fire. He studies the muscles on Armie's thighs, the knees, the hip bones lightly visible under the tanned skin.

“You don't have to do anything if you don't want to, you know that, right?” the Captain's voice is low, sweet, full of fondness. Timmy looks at his face and nods.

“I want to” he confirms, before lowering his head and kissing the man's chest, his stomach, his navel, going down until he finds what he had been dreaming since the previous day. Timmy studies the shaft, the smooth head, the pink epidermis; he holds the prick in his hand shyly, opens his mouth, takes measures, and then tries to suck it, carefully, scared of doing something wrong and hurt Armie.

“Don't use your teeth” the older man suggests, sensing the boy's insecurities, “Use your fist where your lips can't reach, go slow. You know what happens in the end, don't you?” Timmy blushes and nods, eyes down, his face adorably shielded by his curls. “I'll tell you when you have to move away, alright? Don't worry if you need to stop, or if you get uncomfortable. Just do what you feel you can do” Armie reassures him in the most loving way.

Timmy wets his lips before taking another chance. He realizes his hands are trembling; he inhales and exhales a few times before wrapping his fingers around Armie's shaft (which seems to be already half hard, but not completely) and then slipping the tip and a couple of inches inside his mouth. He sucks lightly, slowly, moving his head prudently at first, then more and more confidently, finding a steady rhythm, earning moans and praises from his lover.

“Oh, my angel! My beautiful, beautiful angel” the Captain cries out, petting the boy's hair, not pushing or pulling, just letting him feel the touch. _I'm here, my love. I'm not going anywhere._ It doesn't take long for Armie to reach the edge of his pleasure, so he warns Timmy to stop, but the boy seems to ignore him: he keeps going on, faster, harder, and a few seconds later, he senses the Captain moaning loudly and a spurt of hot liquid invades his own mouth and throat. He didn't expect it to be so strange, though he tries to hold it, maybe swallowing it, but it takes the wrong pipe and Timmy finds himself coughing awkwardly.

“Breath, calm down, breath” Armie rubs the boy's back, tracing circles on his skin, patting the center of his shoulders delicately, until Timmy stops and suddenly laughs.

“Oh, that was funny indeed” he jokes, cheeks flushed, looking at his man with a gleam in his eyes. “I did it. I made you happy!” he says in a whirlwind of joy, disbelief and pride. Armie kisses him with ardor.

“You always make me happy, my precious” he admits in between kisses. “You make me happy every moment that we spend together”

\---


	7. A duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brave act of generosity turns into something potentially much more dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg I don't know why it took so long to write this chapter!! T_T  
> I don't want to make excuses, I just didn't feel like writing these past days, I'm very sad and depressed, I want to travel, I miss my friends, I'm so tired of all this situation... I just procrastinated the whole week and then today I just scribbled this, not even checked for grammar mistakes, sorry :( I hope you understand my feeling, and I hope I will find my enthusiasm for writing back, because this fandom is literally the only thing that keeps me afloat now...

Chapter 7: a duel

Timothée wakes up the next morning, finding himself wrapped tightly into the Captain's arms. His cheek is resting on the older man's chest, and the soft hairs tingle his skin, but not in an unpleasant way, quite the opposite. The blanket around them makes a very confortable cocoon, warm and safe. Timmy smiles and sighs; he is sure he will never be happier that this precise moment, ever. This is definitely the highlight of his life. He looks up and sees Armie's beautiful face: his closed eyes, his long blonde lashes, his relaxed jaw, his perfect lips. He's breathing slowly, soundlessly, and Timmy grins because he was ready to mock the Captain about his snoring when he woke up. But apparently, Armie is a gentleman even when he sleeps.

For a second, a thought crosses Timmy's mind: according to the Bible, they are living in sin; they're acting against nature and the good society's rules. They are also breaking the law, God's law but the Kingdom's law as well; if they should get caught, they could both be hanged. And they will spend the eternity to hell. This last thought in particular terrifies Timmy to the core: eternity is a really long time, and hell doesn't sound like a nice place to stay. The boy shivers in the Captain's grip, and the man moves his head on the pillow, opening his eyes and scanning the room in confusion: he smiles of joy when he discovers Timmy is still there, with him, in his bed.

“Good morning, my angel” Armie whispers, rubbing his own eyes to wake up properly, “I'm glad you decided to stay”

“I want to sleep here with you, in this room, for the rest of our lives” Timmy replies, a twinkle in his hazel pupils. “Do we really have to go back to reality? Because I'm pretty happy as it is now” the boy confesses sweetly, and Armie holds him firmly, then lifts his chin and kisses him with ardor, despite the fact that they both just woke up, so their breaths don't exactly smell like wildflowers. Timmy giggles: yes, this is seriously the happiest moment of his whole life. The Captain caresses his shoulders.

“I promise you we will come back here as soon as I return from abroad. We can stay for the entire summer, if you want. We can plan a few trips around the county, nothing too formal: no carriage, no household, just us, two light rucksacks and our legs, ready to explore” Armie is enthusiastic while suggesting his young lover his projects. His eyes are shining, and Timmy remembers why he loves this man so much. He smiles and nods.

“Yes, Armie, I can't wait for it” he just says, because his heart is beating so fast it makes him unable to speak.

From that day on, Timmy sleeps in the Captain's bedroom every single night. They cuddle, and Armie doesn't push his young lover to do anything he doesn't want to. They have plenty of time to explore each other's bodies, when he will come back from his journey. The simple closeness, the kisses, the touching, falling asleep hugging one another, seem to be enough for both of them. No one needs more, no one asks for more.

They always wake up quite early, have breakfast and go to the beach every morning; Armie teaches Timmy how to swim, and the boy is a fast learner; they even do swimming competitions, and Armie lets Timmy win every time. They go for a walk on the cliffs after lunch, sometimes they lie down in the grass and enjoy the constant breeze. After dinner, the two lovers rest on the sofa, reading poems, until their eyelids become too heavy to stay awake, so they retire in their (now shared) bedroom and before they leave tiredness get the better of them, Armie tells Timmy a fact about his childhood, or his family, or his many many travels abroad. He strictly avoids to talk about war, despite Timmy's unhealthy curiosity and persistent questions regarding that particular subject.

“If I talk about the battlefield, unpleasant memories will return to the surface, and I'll have appalling nightmares that will make me scream and toss in my sleep all night long. I'm quite sure you don't want that, my angel” Armie smirks cleverly, staring at Timmy straight into his wide eyes.

“No Sir, no” the boy shakes his head with energy. He never asks about the war again.

The first week of their holiday passes smoothly and without any hitch. On the following monday morning, Timmy takes advantage of the bad weather to go to the town center with the purpose of retrieving Armie's present from the goldsmith's shop. Since he doesn't want to spoil the surprise, he informs the Captain he is going to escort Danitza to the harbour market again: Armie kisses the boy on the forehead and wishes him an enjoyable walk.

The sky is grey with thick clouds, and it's sure than it will be raining in the evening; the sea is quite stormy, which is good for the fishermen, because the high waves move the fishes towards the shore and right into the nets. There will be a wide range of seafood to choose for Danitza, and a lot of bargains to make -and many men to distract with her breathtaking _d_ _é_ _collet_ _é_ -. The cook kisses Timmy's cheek when they part.

The tiny workshop is open, and the boy is already vibrating with excitement to see the pendant finished.

“Good morning?” he calls, and a second after the old goldsmith makes his appearance from the back room.

“Oh, good morning young Sir, I was waiting for you” the elderly man smiles and nods, then goes immediately to the shelves, reaches for the highest one and grabs the small metallic coffer; he opens it on the table and carefully lifts a thin gold chain with an oval pendant. On the golden surface of the pendant there are three letters engraved: _THC._

“It's wonderful” Timothée compliments the artisan, receiving the jewel from his hands and observing it closer, studying every single detail of it with a broad grin on his face.

“The lock of your hair is inside, I used a special glue of my own invention. See?” the goldsmith opens the pendant with a _click_ and shows the little bunch of dark hair curled inside the hollow, very well secured by the special glue. “Nobody will be aware of the secret content, except for the person who receives it” the elderly man smirks, and Timmy feels his cheeks going on fire. He deposits the pendant into his purse, which is securely hidden under his jacket, and gives the goldsmith other five shillings for his praiseworthy work. When the boy leaves the shop, the old man is still thanking him.

There is no hurry to go back at the cottage, since the Captain has received some correspondence from his investors and will be busy with replying to them for the entire morning, so Timmy decides to venture into the town, discovering the narrow alleys, the little shops, the hidden gardens. It's a small town, but the young Lord thinks he could easily find happiness here: it's so peaceful, the sea is close, the nature is wild. He could build a tiny greenhouse and keep studying plants and insects. He could join the town council, so his father would be happy too. But primarily, Armie and him could live here, in the cottage, with just a selected household -not more that four people, and Danitza, of course-, and even if the Captain would continue travelling around the world for half of the year, Timmy would patiently wait for him to come back every time, watching the ships dock at the harbour from the top of the cliff, hoping for one of them to be the one that will bring Armie back home to him. Timothée would wait for Armie an entire lifetime, if he had to.

Timmy is about to go back to the road that leads towards the cottage, when he clearly hears an high pitched scream coming from an alley not far from there: the boy speeds up the pace, turns a corner, and from afar he sees a man standing in front of a small girl, very young, maybe a child. The girl is on the floor, her arms shielding her face as a protection, and Timmy's blood freezes when he realizes the man is beating the little girl with a riding crop. After a moment of shock, Timmy takes a few steps forward, with the intent of helping the poor creature. He runs towards the man, who keeps hitting the girl with no mercy.

“Give me my money, you filthy sow!” the man yells, and hits again; the crop whistles every time it cleaves the air. The girl cries loudly: she removes her arms from her face, and Timmy recognizes Eve, the girl with ginger hair that works at the pub. Her nose is bleeding.

“Don't you dare to touch her again, you vile beast!” Timothée shouts on the top of his lungs when he reaches them, standing in the middle between the girl and the man.

“Get the hell out of my way, you brat, or I'll trash you as well” the man glances at Timmy from head to toe, looking annoyed.

“Leave this girl alone, and be ashamed of yourself for treating her like this” the boy doesn't move a muscle and clenches his fists on his sides, boiling with rage. His father has taught him that nobody can hit a woman, or yell at her, for whatsoever reason, never; but this is the very first time that Timmy finds himself witnessing such an upsetting scene. He's shaking, but he hopes the man doesn't notice it.

“You useless brat, who do you think you are?” the man barks, snapping the whip on his own palm as a threat. The boy lifts his chin with pride.

“I'm Lord Chalamet, from Primrose Lodge. You better not defy me, Sir”

The man bursts in a mocking laugh, then unexpectedly strikes Timmy's face with the crop, leaving the young Lord breathless for a short moment. The boy turns his face to the side and loses his balance under the blow, but he manages not to fall backwards; he goes back to his position, staring at the scoundrel, a hand covering his cheek, where a red mark is already appearing.

“Do you want another one, sissy?” the awful man yells while raising the crop with the clear intention of beating the boy again, when a small group of women, armed with brooms and broken bottles, surrounds Timmy like a human wall.

“Why don't you pick on someone your own size, Parnell?” the taller of the women shouts, lifting the broom, taking a step towards the man, who gets the hint and understands he is now alone against an half dozen of angry women seeking for revenge. He grunts something and walks away. Timmy is trying not to cry, but his cheek burns like hell. He feels a gentle touch on his shoulder and a sweet voice:

“Oh poor boy, let me see”, it's Eve, and she's moving Timmy's hand away to check the damage. Turns out that while the young Lord was keeping that scumbag busy, Eve had run at the pub to gather an army and then had come back to rescue Timothée right on time. She gently brushes her fingers on the boy's face.

“It won't hurt much longer” the girl says, “You've been so brave” she rises on her tippy toes and kisses Timmy on the red spot left by the whip. The women around them howl and mewl with mischief.

“You didn't tell us you have a suitor, Eve” a lady with a dark mop-head jokes, making Timmy blush and the other women laugh. The ginger girl groans and rolls her eyes.

“He's not my suitor, Susan. He's Captain Hammer's birdie” she reveals, earning some gasps from her friends.

“That means Parnell is already a dead man” the taller woman replies.

“Yeah, he better dig his own grave” another girl adds, giggling “because when the Captain will find him, he will skin him alive and make him swallow his own balls!”

The other women nods and cheer, almost hoping for it to happen. Timmy gets pale and his guts shrink with terror; he looks at Eve, searching for reassurance.

“Don't listen to these silly bitches, my dear” the girl smiles and takes the boy's hand. “Come on, I'll take you home” she kindly drags Timmy away from the alley.

They walk slowly, in silence, holding hands, eyes down. Timmy wants to ask Eve what exactly does she do at the pub, but he thinks he wouldn't like the answer, so he just keeps his mouth shut. They stop when they get close to the gate of the cottage.

“I better go back now” Eve lets Timmy's hand go, smiling up at him.

“Thank you” the boy replies shyly, “Are you sure you don't want to come in for a cup of tea or some cake or...?” he shrugs, not sure about what is it appropriate to offer to a girl who he barely knows. He suspects she would be more interested in the liquor cabinet, anyway.

“You're so cute! No, thanks, maybe next time” she twits, swinging her shoulders lightly, hands behind her back. She glances at the cottage and sighs. “Does he treat you well?” Eve asks, no need to specify who she's talking about. Timmy nods and blushes.

“Like a prince” he reveals, making her giggle loudly.

“Lucky you, then” the girl whispers, a tiny smirk on her lips. She pats Timmy's arm before leaving him in front of the house. He watches her walking away, her long ginger braid, her old patchy dress, and suddenly wishes he could do something to make her life a little bit brighter, because she's obviously struggling, and she's so young...

Timothée stands outside the door of the office, trying to find the courage to enter and show his wounded face to the Captain: he knows perfectly what kind of reaction Armie will have, and it chills him to the bone, but he can't hide from his lover forever, so he takes a deep breath, holds the handle and opens the door. Armie is sitting behind the desk, head down, reading letters and taking notes; he senses Timmy's gaze upon himself and looks up at him, a wide smile brightening his face.

“You're home, my precious” he says happily, but his grin quickly fades the moment he notices Timmy's red cheek. “What happened?” the Captain enquires, getting up from his chair and reaching the boy with just a couple of long strides. He pinches Timmy's chin and lifts his head to give a better look at the scratch.

“It's nothing, Armie, really. I fell” Timothée huffs, avoiding eye contact.

“You _fell_?” the Captain repeats, raising his eyebrows, surely not buying it. He knows the boy is lying, because Timmy is a terrible liar. “I will ask you again, and I would like you to be honest this time. What happened, Timothée?” Armie's voice is low and dominant, and gives the boy a pang in his stomach.

“I... uhm... there was a man beating a girl in an alley. I stepped in to try to protect her, and the man hit me too” the boy summarizes the story, making it sound like nothing important. Armie gently caresses Timmy's cheek, being very careful not to hurt him; his jaw clenches and his nostrils tremble.

“Where did it happen? Did anyone see something?” the Captain presses his guest.

“Other people came to help me, and made the man run away” Timmy pacifies him, hands on the man's chest, “The girl is safe, and I'm fine. There is no reason to be so restless, I promise. Please, can we go on the beach now? I really want to swim” the boy smiles, aiming to calm Armie down. The Captain sighs, then smiles back at his lover.

“You've been very brave. I'm so proud of you” he hugs Timmy as tight as he can, kissing his head, sinking his nose into the boy's soft curls. Timmy giggles.

“You just sounded exactly like my father” he jokes.

“Really?” Armie grins, “Well, get ready because this old man is about to outrun you today. I'll swim so fast you won't even see me moving!” he tickles Timmy's sides, making the boy squirm and laugh madly. The Captain holds his lover's hand and drags him out of the room.

As usual, they sleep together in the Captain's bedroom. The morning after, Timmy senses the bed being strangely cold, and empty: so far he is used to wake up wrapped into the man's strong arms, but now when he opens his eyes, he realizes his limbs are free, and when he skims a hand on the mattress on Armie's side, the sheets are chilly, so the man must have left the bed for a while. Timothée stares at the pillow, frowning, wondering what made Armie leave their cocoon so early. His stomach growls loudly, and he gets up with the inviting smell of bacon and fried eggs coming from the kitchen.

Timmy has breakfast alone, and this is the first time it happens since they have been staying at the cottage. He is starting getting upset and worried: where could Armie be? Why has he not come back yet? Could he be with someone else? Who? Why would he betray Timmy so cruelly? The boy was planning to give the Captain his present, the pendant with the hidden lock of hair, that very morning, but the man seems nowhere to be found...

While Timothée is in the living room reading a book, the main door flings open and a red faced, distraught Danitza storms inside the house, crying and panting.

“Timy! Tiiimy!” she screams. The young Lord runs towards her in the hallway, shaken by seeing the woman like this.

“Danitza, please calm down and tell me what happened” he asks, holding her shoulders firmly. The cook is struggling to breath, both because of the running and crying.

“The Captan, I see him in town... he is with man, he very angry” she tells, fanning her face with a hand, seeking for the right words. “He have... uhm...” she makes an _L_ with her thumb and index finger and points towards the boy: “ _Bang bang!_ ” she motions a blow.

“A gun! Danitza, who had a gun? The Captain or the other man?” Timmy questions her, getting more and more agitated any passing second.

“Two gun!” the woman cries out, whining, covering her mouth with her palm. Timmy feels his own blood becoming ice into his veins: if there were two guns, this means it was a duel. It means it was planned, it was done on purpose. It means Armie had left the house that morning with the clear intention of being involved in a fight. Timothée's body petrifies at the thought that the kiss they shared before falling asleep the previous night could have been their very last kiss. For a few seconds, time stops, there are no sounds around him, the world just doesn't exist anymore. Only fear exists.

Timmy is about to launch himself outside the door when he sees Armie approaching the gate of the cottage, escorted by two men: they are holding the Captain at both sides, because he is clearly injured and has difficulty walking on his own. There is blood all over Armie's shirt and trousers. The two men patiently bring the Captain inside the house, crossing Timmy and Danitza in the hallway, and carefully enter the living room, depositing the wounded man on the couch, making sure he doesn't lie down on his shoulder. One of the two stranger men is talking to Timmy, but the boy can't hear him: his ears are turned off, he can just observe the man's lips moving fast. The man frowns, then grabs Timmy's biceps and literally shakes him like an old, dusty carpet.

“Hey, I need you to wake up and help us!” the man stares into Lord Chalamet's eyes, seeming concerned and hurried.

“You're scaring him, John” the Captain's low, weak voice breaks into the room for the first time. Only then, Timmy reacts and comes back on earth: he looks at Armie, their eyes meet, the Captain smiles fondly. “I'm fine, it's just a scratch, don't panic” he says to Timmy, raising his hand, while the other man is cutting his shirt with a pair of scissors to expose the laceration on the Captain's shoulder.

“You're lucky the bullet didn't get any closer to the bone, you imbecile” John scolds Armie, closely examining the bore left by the bullet when it crossed the muscle side by side. “It seems like I won't have to dig too deep: the tiny bastard has already left your body” John squeezes the injured shoulder on purpose, making Armie flinch and grunt loud.

“Remind me to kill you after you've done patching me” Armie gives John a mortal glance, but the only reaction he gets back is a laugh from the man.

“Oh, if I had a penny for each time a patient tells me this!” the man jokes, while applying a solution on the wound and then covering it with a bandage. Armie chuckles and rolls his eyes; he turns his head to look at Timmy, who's still standing in silence on the threshold of the living room, pale and motionless. Danitza, who can't tolerate the sight of the human blood, has rushed away to hide in the kitchen and cry.

“Timothée, allow me to introduce you my old friend, John Carter” the Captain's voice attracts Timmy's attention, “We went to school together, but he somehow managed to become a doctor” Armie mocks his pal, earning a light punch on the chest by him.

“It's easy when you have the right connections and a handsome face” John replies ironically: he cleans his hands on a towel and stretches an arm towards the boy. Timmy gets the hint a moment later, and shakes the doctor's hand.

“I'm Timothée. Timmy” the boy replies shyly. “Sorry if I didn't help, I never know what to do in these situations” he confesses, blushing and lowering his gaze on the floor. He is too embarrassed to look at anyone else in the room, included Armie.

“Don't worry, it wasn't so bad as it seemed at first” John reassures the younger man, then he turns to the Captain: “You need absolute rest for a couple of weeks. No swimming, no lifting heavy stuff, but above all: no damn duels!” he points at the patient, his dark eyebrows almost reaching his hairline. “Thank God that peasant had a terrible shot. I'll come to check on you in a few days. Don't make me regret it” John reprimands Armie again, but there is fondness in his tone of voice. They clearly know each other very well. Timmy wonders if John acknowledges the nature of his relationship with Armie, if he suspects Timmy is not a simple _friend_.

The doctor and the other man who helped carry the Captain leave the house, and finally Timmy and Armie are alone again.

“Why are you so far from me?” the older man enquires, opening his able arm and inviting the boy to join him on the couch. In any other circumstances, Timmy would have flown to throw himself into the Captain's embrace, but not now. Not after what Armie had done. Timmy is furious, but he manages to keep a cold surface, not showing any emotions over his face.

“I don't want to talk to you in this moment, Armie” the young Lord murmurs, glancing outside the window at the sunny morning. The man chuckles.

“Alright, then I'll do the talking, you just listen: I couldn't leave that scumbag unpunished after what he did to you, so I went to the town, I asked around and I found him. I didn't want to end up in a duel, I swear to you, I swear! I just wanted to talk to him. But he offended you again, and me, so I couldn't pretend nothing happened. I had to seek justice”

“You had to get revenge, to appease your pride!” Timmy makes eye contact with the Captain, his cheeks flushed for the effort to remain calm. “You are so stupidly proud sometimes. What do you think it would have happened if you died today? How do you think I would have felt, spending the rest of my life knowing that you died because of me? That it was all my fault?” the boy is almost yelling, eyes watering, the vein on his neck throbbing. Armie shrugs and shakes his head:

“I don't... I didn't consider this side of the matter, honestly” he tries to justify himself, ending up upsetting Timmy even more.

“Exactly, Armie, you didn't care about me, you just wanted to resolve the issue quickly and be satisfied!” the boy darts out of the living room and goes upstairs, slamming the door of his bedroom. The Captain decides not to follow him: maybe he needs some time and space to be alone, to soothe his nerves, to let off some steam. Armie will try to talk some sense into his lover when he will be a bit more detached.

The sun is already fading when Captain Hammer hesitantly opens the door of Timothée's bedroom: he slowly walks closer to the bed, where the boy is lying with his face towards the window. Armie sits down on the edge of the mattress, but doesn't say any word. He looks at Timmy, who is awake and keeps ignoring the man with a stubbornness that makes Armie laugh.

“Will you ever speak to me again?” the Captain whispers, caressing the boy's arm, his shoulder, his side. Timmy silently sits up and hugs Armie tight, being very careful not to hurt him. Armie holds him with his functioning arm, kisses his cheek, rubs his back, drawing circles with his palm on the boy's skin.

“I can't live without you, I just can't” Timmy mumbles, voice thick with emotion. Warm tears cross his cheek and wet Armie's shirt.

“And you don't have to. I will always be with you, even when we will be apart” the Captain sweetly comforts his young lover. Their lips meet, and it's like everything makes sense at once: they kiss each other passionately, almost frantically, as if they were living on borrowed time -which was, in a way, true, since Armie was about to leave Britain the following month-.

“I'm still furious” Timmy admits, fingers intertwined into Armie's blonde hair. They kiss again, and again, until they're both breathless.

“Is there something I can do to make amends and be forgiven?” the Captain has a mischievous gleam in his eyes while talking. Timothée is already persuaded to give up his anger and let his body and mind be completely overwhelmed by the joy of lovemaking, when he suddenly remembers he has something else to donate to his reckless lover: he reaches for the bedside table, opens the small drawer and retrieves his purse.

“I have a little present for you” Timmy announces, heart fluttering with anxiety. He finds the golden pendant and delivers it into Armie's palm. “I hope you like it. My headletters are carved on the surface, see? And there is a lock of my hair hidden inside, you can see it if you open the pendant. So I will always be with you, too” the boy looks at the Captain with dreamy eyes and the widest smile, holding his breath, expectant and utterly in love. Armie wears the thin golden chain and pushes the pendant on his chest, right over his heart.

“This is the most amazing and meaningful gift I have ever received” he just reveals, his blue pupils drowning into unshed tears. His lips move as he wanted to say something else, but he ends up assaulting Timmy's mouth once more, kissing him savagely, as if his own life depended on it. He gently lays the boy on the mattress, licking the smooth skin on his neck, unbuttoning his shirt and starting a journey of kisses down along his young lover's body: his hairless chest, his pink turgid nipples, his belly button, his navel... until he reaches his destination, finding a very hard prick waiting to be worshipped. Armie manages to untie Timmy's trousers and underpants with one hand. He strokes the shaft with a gentle touch at first, making eye contact, observing the boy's face crimson and his breath increasing; then setting a steady rhythm when Timmy's moans become more and more loud.

“Please, Armie... please” the younger man murmurs, his eyes rolling backwards and his spine arching under the waves of pleasure.

“What do you need, my angel?” the Captain whispers, smirking cleverly, knowing the answer already.

“I need... I need your mouth, Sir, please” the young Lord begs, hiding his face behind his arm to cover his own shame.

“And what do you want me to do with my mouth, my precious?” the older man insists, enjoying the clear embarrassment Timmy feels when talking about these subjects.

“Please, Armie... don't do this to me now” Timmy's voice is barely audible, and Armie has mercy on him: he lowers his head and places wet, warm kisses on the soft skin on the tip of the boy's hard shaft, earning moans and whines. He takes more into his mouth every time his head bobs up and down, until he manages to engulf the whole length. Slender fingers massage the Captain's scalp, showing gratitude and appreciation for the pleasure the man is giving to his lover. Armie's hand skims Timmy's side, his hip, moves on his back and slips into his underpants, finding his small bottom, caressing the rounded buttocks, the silky skin there, rubbing the fingertips along the crease in the middle. Timmy almost loses his sanity when he senses a phalange enter his most sensitive hidden place.

“Yes, yes please” the boy whimpers, spreading his legs a little wider to grant Armie's finger a better access. The Captain's lips continue their work on the prick, mercilessly sucking and releasing it, while his middle finger makes its way into the tight muscles inside, breaching any residual defense, finding the right angle to hit the magic spot: when it happens, Timmy screams so loud that all the birds on the trees around the cottage fly away at the same time, scared to death. He lightly pulls at Armie's hair to warn him that he is very close to reach the peak of his pleasure. The man doesn't seem to be bothered, on the opposite: he speeds up his rhythm both on the front and behind, relishing in the pride of giving his lover the most powerful orgasm he has experienced so far. It won't be the last one, though, Armie is sure of that. He will never refuse Timothée anything, he will never neglect him. Timmy's body is shaking violently from head to toe, and soon he feels all his senses abandoning him at once: he squeezes the pillow at the sides of his head and arches his back, shouting out at the top of his lungs, carelessly about being heard by the household or the neighbours. Hot spurts of semen fill the Captain's mouth, but he remains calm and composed, keeping milking his lover, delicately sucking until the last drop is released.

When Timothée regains his ability to open his eyes and remember where he is, he finds Armie spread on the mattress in front of him, caressing his cheek.

“I love you” the boy mewls, tucking his face into the crook of the Captain's strong neck. “I love you, I love you, I love you” Timmy repeats like these were the only words he can produce in that moment.

“I promise you, I will never let my pride come between me and you again” Armie declares, only now realizing the danger and the stupidity of what he had done. John was right: if that scoundrel of Parnell had had a better shot, Armie would have been the one killed in the duel. He shivers at the thought of leaving Timmy face the rest of his life alone, scared, miserable. He tightens the hold on his lover's spent body.

_God help me, I love you more than my own flesh and blood._

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be pivotal so it could take a few days to be completed. I hope you will still like me even if I'm lazy and slow :)


	8. A sharp return to reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holiday ends. Saoirse receives a news. A note comes too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people!! How are you? First of all: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for your sweet messages last week!! You are the most supportive "virtual friends" I've ever had, I really hope you are fine and healthy, both physically and mentally. I feel a bit better now, I wanted to update this chapter quicker but I couldn't, so there we are, it's 2am here in Ireland and I have to get up at 8am xD but I wanted to give you this chapter today, one way or another!  
> Just a couple of things before you read:  
> \- abjure means rejecting your own religion, mostly to save your life  
> \- I don't know if telescopes were already around in 1800, but anyway...  
> \- sorry

Chapter 8: a sharp return to reality

Captain Hammer and Lord Chalamet spend the last five days of their holiday trying to make the best of it despite the fact that, since Armie is injured, he can't swim anymore: he just sits on the sand and watches Timmy swimming back and forth, more and more confident every passing day.

“You could overcome a ship” the Captain says when Timothée joins him on the blanket.

“Don't make fun of me, I'm still learning” the boy fakes indignation. There are a few other people on the beach, so they have to be very careful: they lie down at a proper distance, avoiding to touch each other, looking like nothing more than two gentlemen friends sharing a place in the sun. Timmy is burning with the desire to kiss the Captain, though, so he quickly plans a way for them to be alone: he suddenly stands up, stops in front of Armie and vigorously shakes his head, eliciting a tiny storm of drops of water to explode from his wet hair. The storm hits the Captain in full force, and after a few seconds the man is completely soaked. Timmy laughs savagely, while Armie stares at him with wide eyes and a surprised grin.

“Oh, you shouldn't have done it, you little rascal” he huffs, but there is a hint of amusement in his tone. Timothée immediately sprints and runs away, and Armie is on his own feet a second later, going after the boy, chasing him on the sand, laughing, feeling the wind on his face, free and happy as he has never been. Timmy leads him into the cave, which is now _their_ cave, the place where they can be alone. The place where they can be themselves. Timmy stops, panting heavily, giggling, and Armie does the same; they look at each other, hearts thumping madly in their chests, and not just because of the running. Armie cups the boy's cheeks, getting closer, their bodies almost touching, and he moves his lips in an attempt of talking, but then stops, frowns, doesn't say anything. Timmy kisses his palm.

“Yes, Armie” he whispers.

“Yes? To what?” the Captain's voice cracks lightly for the emotion of hearing Timmy pronounce those words.

“To whatsoever you were about to ask me. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes” the young man raises on his toes and melts his own lips on Armie's ones, kissing him with all the passion and the abandon he couldn't show on the beach because of the prying eyes around them. They hold each other so tight that there are no boundaries anymore, or extremities; their skins are merged so perfectly together that is almost impossible to establish where one man's body finishes and the other one's starts. They are one single creature with four legs and two beating hearts.

“I would like to show you a place, before we leave” Armie tells Timmy when they finally part, “A place you will surely appreciate”. Timmy nods and the Captain can't resist the temptation to kiss him again, a long, endless kiss.

The day preceding the departure, a carriage takes the two gentlemen to a beautiful village on the top of a hill: a stunning wild nature surrounds a dozen of typical cottages, a little bakery, the blacksmith's workshop. The two men leave the carriage outside the village and walk across the only paved road, politely nodding to greet the few people they meet on their way: they're mostly women, because men are all working into the mines, and they stare at Armie and Timmy and their elegant suits with confusion. These people have clearly never seen a wealthy person before. At the end of the road they find a tiny, quite old building, and the fact that there is a cemetery right in front of it suggests that it is a church. The front door is open, so they venture inside: Lord Chalamet is enchanted by the stained glass windows representing sacred images of Jesus and the Virgin Mary; there are paintings of several saints all around the walls of the small church. Timmy explains Armie who each of them are and how they died.

“Most of them were killed because they refused to abjure” the boy murmurs, cheeks flushed with enthusiasm of being for the first time the one who knows more about the subject. Armie just smiles at him and listens in silence. They stop right in front of the altar, and the Captain holds Timmy's hand, squeezing gently. He turns to look at the boy face to face.

“I know it may sound ridiculous, or even blaspheme, to say it in a place like this, but... I wish we took a vow, here, today” Armie explains to his dumbfounded lover, “I wish we promised each other that, for the time we will be parted, there won't be anyone else in our beds, or in our thoughts, and that we will remain faithful to one other, with both body and mind”

Timothée's lips tremble, and his eyes have never been so big and shiny.

“There will be no one else except you, Armie, until my very last heartbeat” the boy promises, his chest tightening almost painfully for the strong emotion, while a solitary tear is already rolling down his face. Armie's thumb reaches for the tear before it can fall on the coat's lapel.

“Same for me, my angel. I've never been so close to anybody else before, and it scares me a lot, if I have to be completely honest” the Captain confesses, an unguarded gaze that is quite odd for a man like him, who is always naturally composed, and yet in that moment he seems so vulnerable, so fragile, that a mild breeze could sweep him away like a leaf in the wind.

“I'm scared too” Timmy admits, leaning his forehead on Armie's chest. “I don't know what to do with myself when you'll be gone”

“Don't say that” the Captain pinches his young lover's chin and lifts his head, meeting his eyes, “You will have so many things to do, to learn, that you won't even realize I'm not here. Time will fly, and we will be together again. For ever” Armie's sweet smile warms Timmy's heart and dispels any doubts left. They leave the church holding hands.

\---

Meanwhile, at Primrose Lodge, something unusual is causing a little hustle and bustle. When Miss Ronan opens the door of the living room, she finds her uncle Marc sit behind the desk with a puzzled expression and her auntie Nicole standing next to him, excited like a child in front of a Christmas tree.

“Did you send for me, uncle?” the girl enquires, glancing from one relative to the other, hoping not to be in trouble. She's sure she didn't do anything wrong or forbidden, at least in the last week.

“Something very peculiar just happened, my dear” uncle Marc reveals, frowning deeply, “And I... I'm honestly surprised” he chuckles. Nicole walks around the desk and takes Saoirse's hands in her ones, beaming.

“A young gentleman, you may imagine who, just asked us permission to propose to you!” Lady Chalamet twits, her beautiful blue eyes gleaming. Saoirse feels her heart stop: could have been Louis? Did he finally find a steady job and gathered some courage to talk to Marc about their secret engagement? But why didn't he say anything last time they met? Since Timmy is not home, french classes have been dismissed for a couple of weeks, so Saoirse haven't seen Monsieur Garrel in a fortnight, and she misses him so much it hurts. If he had taken this important decision, wouldn't he at least have tried to inform her, write her a letter or maybe even try to meet her in person, to discuss the matter together? Unless... unless this was a surprise, a romantic gesture to show Miss Ronan how much Louis loves her. Yes, it must be like this. Saoirse smiles widely, her heart resumes beating.

“I must confess this is totally unexpected” uncle Marc continues talking, “I mean, we know this young man and we like him”

“Yes, we like him even if he is a foreigner” Nicole nods, making a sympathetic face.

“You know we have absolutely no prejudices, as long as he treats you -and us- with respect” Marc underlines with a serious tone.

“Why didn't you tell me he was wooing you?” Nicole cups her niece's cheeks, tilting her own head on the side, grinning and looking at the girl with fondness and pride. Saoirse opens her mouth to speak, but she gets interrupted before she can utter a sound: “Oh, it doesn't matter! We are so happy for you, my darling” the older woman kisses the girl's forehead.

“Of course you are aware you don't have to accept, if you don't want to” Lord Chalamet breaks the idyllic moment with a dose of realism. Again, Saoirse moves her lips to talk, and again she gets stopped by her auntie's sudden enthusiasm.

“Why should she refuse him?” Nicole chirps, peering at her husband with her eyebrows up. “He is such an honorable man, and handsome too! And even if he doesn't look quite british” she turns to look at her niece “And probably he will never fit into high society, and his income is not even remotely appropriate for a girl of your level... well, at least your children will be stunning” Nicole concludes with a sigh, shrugging lightly. Saoirse gapes at her, not knowing where to start to reply.

“There is no rush for you to get married, we always told you” uncle Marc reminds her, but his voice is softer now. “You should only do what your heart truly desires. If you think this man is worthy of your trust, of your love, then say yes, if that's what you want”

“Yes, uncle, I love him” Saoirse confirms, inhaling a long breath and then exhaling with relief. Nicole hugs her with a loud _Aww!_

“Very good, I'm glad to hear it. I suppose we should start calling you Mrs Varma” Lord Chalamet jokes. Saoirse's head literally snaps towards the man.

“Wait... _what?!_ ” she asks, already in panic. Marc and Nicole laugh.

“We know you are a fervent feminist” her uncle stands up slowly, “But the rule is still that the wife takes the husband's name when they get married”

“I wonder if it works the same in India” Nicole seems suddenly doubtful, then she has an epiphany: “Oh Lord, will you move so far? Please don't go, you'll break my heart” she whines. Saoirse raises her hands, palms out.

“Auntie, stop talking for a second!” she looks at Marc then: “Who did exactly speak to you, uncle?” the girl enquires, eyes wide.

“Mister Karan Varma, who else?” Lord Chalamet smiles, walking closer to his wife.

“Karan? The fencing trainer?” Saoirse is absolutely flabbergasted. Marc nods, holding Nicole by her waist, and clarifies:

“Yes, he came here this morning and told us he is head over heels in love with you, but he didn't want to propose to you without having our consent first”

“How kind of him” his wife adds, “The appropriate way to act as a perfect gentleman, indeed” Nicole winks at her niece.

Saoirse stares at her relatives for a full minute without say anything. She is too dazed to move a single muscle, included her brain. What the hell just happened? She was thinking about Louis while for the entire time they were talking about Karan! How was it possible? When did Karan even notice her? They had only recently known each other, and they usually spoke about general matters: travels, politics, sport. And he was _in love_ with her? Did Saoirse do something to encourage him? Surely not, since she was already promised to someone else, even if secretly. She needs to deliberate, calmly and rationally. She needs to get out of the living room, now.

“I'm sorry, I... I have to go” she just excuses herself before running towards the door and disappearing along the hallway.

\---

And then, the most feared day comes for Timothée: the end of his holiday with Captain Hammer. He wakes up early to be able to pack his trunks and go to the beach for the last time. Doctor Carter pays a visit to the cottage to check on Armie's wound.

“There is no sign of infection, but I'm afraid you will have to keep your arm still for another week” John advices, while putting a new bandage to settle the Captain's arm tight against his chest.

“Don't worry, my friend” Armie replies, peeking at Timmy who's standing next to the door of the office “One arm is enough to do the important tasks” he smirks, making the joke between the two of them very clear. Timmy's face reaches a whole new shade of red, and he sprints out of the room, hiding himself in the kitchen until John leaves.

On the beach, Timmy collects some fancy stones to show to his mother. He would gladly go to the cave for the last time, but they have to go back to the cottage: the journey home to Sholden will start soon, and they need to be at Primrose Lodge before dark.

In the carriage, Armie holds Timmy in his lap, caressing his head, listening to the light sounds of his breathing; the boy leans his cheek on the Captain's shoulder, eyes closed, almost hoping to wake up and find himself in the cottage's bedroom again. He wish he could turn back time to the first day they came to Deal, do everything they have done, say everything they said, relive the past (well, except for the duel, that was stupid and ruined their last few days). Armie senses his gloomy mood immediately, as usual.

“We will come back as soon as I return. I promised you, and I always fulfil my promises” the older man kisses Timmy's forehead. The boy nods silently. The journey back home seems shorter compared on the outward, two weeks earlier. When they start seeing the battlements of Primrose estate approaching, Timmy gasps and clings to Armie so tight he could easily break a couple of his ribs.

“I don't want to go!” he cries out, his voice muffled into the crook of the man's neck, “Please, take me with you. I swear I won't be in your way, I will be silent and polite. I will not ask for nothing more than being with you for a few minutes each day” the boy whines. Armie holds him and smiles.

“I would never ask you to be silent and polite, my angel. Quite the opposite: I would like to hear your voice, loud and clear, about any subject, always” the Captain tells his lover, aiming to soothe his nerves. Timmy lifts his head and kisses Armie desperately, pushing his tongue into the man's mouth, entangling his fingers in the Captain's blonde hair, pulling a little too hard. Armie leaves him free to take whatever he needs.

The carriage slowly passes the gate of the estate, and when it reaches the forecourt, three people are waiting for it to stop and release its passengers.

“Oh, my baby is home, finally!” Nicole yells when Timmy's dark curls peek out of the door of the carriage: she hugs him the moment he sets his feet on the ground.

“Hello, _maman._ It's nice to see you” Timmy manages to greet her before she starts pecking all over his face. Saoirse laughs and Marc rolls his eyes, both waiting for their turn to welcome the young Lord home. The Captain decides to get out of the vehicle to briefly pay his respects to the family before heading towards Pembroke Hall.

“Holy Graal, what happened?” Saoirse notices the bandage on the man's arm. Timmy looks at Armie and his face loses color all at once. The Captain gives the Chalamets a wide smile.

“Nothing to worry about, I just made a sharp movement while swimming and pulled a muscle. I guess I'm getting too old for such kind of exertion” he mocks himself, earning a laugh and a praise from Marc about the perks of being a man _who has survived the torture of youth._ Timmy exhales with relief and can't help himself but envy the man for his skills with lies. Before the Captain dismisses himself, Timmy lightly touches his side to attract his attention.

“May I come to Pembroke to say goodbye properly?” he enquires, whispering to avoid his family hearing their private matters. Armie grins broadly.

“Of course you can, my angel. You don't need to ask for permission: my home is your home, too. Come whenever you want, early in the morning or late in the night. I'll be there, waiting for you” Armie reassures his young lover; out of habit, he lifts a hand with the purpose of caressing Timmy's cheek, but stops himself last second, suddenly remembering they are not alone anymore. He nods towards the boy and then disappears into the carriage. Timmy watches the wheels picking up speed and the vehicle leaving the estate, cruelly taking his love away from him.

During dinner, Nicole and Saoirse ambush Timmy in a crossfire of questions about the holiday: where have they been, how was the town, did he learn how to swim, how do eastern people speak... Timmy politely answers with generical pieces of information, then declares to be tired for the long trip and excuses himself right after they finish eating.

He ignores the trunks in the corner of his bedroom and goes straight to bed, falling face down on the mattress, spreading his arms and legs like a starfish, sinking into the pillow. He already misses Armie so much, and it's been just a couple of hours since they parted! How is he going to survive a whole winter without him? He's going to be utterly miserable. Maybe Armie will find someone else and he will forget about Timmy. It's a plausible possibility, after all. Timmy's heart aches with sorrow at the simple thought of it: he's going to cry into the pillow, when someone knocks at the door of his bedroom and slightly opens it.

“Are you sleeping?” Saoirse's blonde locks peek from behind the wooden surface.

“Yes” Timmy replies sarcastically, not moving a single muscle. His cousin rolls her eyes and enters the room, joining him on the mattress.

“I have sooo many things to tell you! But first I want to know _everything_ ” she demands, tickling the boy's side to force him to roll over and get his full attention. Timmy huffs with annoyance and looks at her.

“I already told you and _maman_ every bloody detail, Serch!” he bursts out gracelessly. The girl smirks, a sly twinkle in her eyes.

“Yes, but you omitted the interesting part” she lowers her body towards her cousin, getting closer to him. “What did the Captain do to you? Did he torture you? Holy Graal, do you still have all your fingers and toes?” she chirps, excited, trying to check on Timmy's hands to verify the presence of all the phalanges. Timmy's eyes widen with shock; he sits up abruptly.

“What the hell, Serch?! I'm not going to talk to you about this” he shouts out, cheeks crimsoning for the sudden anger. “Now get out of here!”

“But...” she mumbles, genuinely surprised by that strong reaction: Timmy had never cussed before, or yelled at her.

“Out!” he points towards the door, raged. Saoirse's face crumbles down, she frowns, wants to say sorry, but she doesn't. She leaves the room without any spare word, and Timmy realizes this is the very first time they had a fight since they were born, and it had been simply awful. He cries into the pillow until tiredness prevails.

\---

Timothée waits a couple of days before going to Pembroke, because he doesn't want to look needy and desperate. The butler greets him and leads him inside the castle as usual: Timmy notices the trunks full of clothes and nautical maps on the floor of the living room, waiting to be sealed and loaded on the back of the carriage, and immediately feels a lump in his throat. The butler waves a hand towards the main staircase, suggesting that the Captain is upstairs and inviting the guest to keep going on his own, since he knows where the master bedroom is. Lord Chalamet blushes and thanks the man before moving ahead. He reaches the door of Armie's room, but is unsure about actually knocking or not; maybe he shouldn't bother the Captain right now, he should just leave him free to finish packing his belongings in peace. It was a mistake to come to Pembroke, Timmy is already regretting it. With a pang in his stomach, the young gentleman turns around and is ready to leave, when a familiar voice calls his name from the other side of the hallway.

“Timothée?” Armie's face is glowing with the brightest smile when he sees the boy. Timmy wants nothing more than run as fast as he can and throw himself into his lover's safe embrace, begging him not to go, asking him to stay, promising he will make Armie happy if he only had one chance, telling him how much he loves him. Instead, he keeps still and patiently waits for the Captain to walk across the hallway and reach him.

“I'm glad you came” the older man admits, and this time he is allowed to cup Timmy's cheek and brush his thumb on it, since nobody else is around. “I wanted to send you a note but I found myself quite busy. I missed you, very much” he says and kisses the boy's hairline. He peers at him, blue eyes boring into Timmy's soul. “Something's wrong” the Captain states, and it's not a question.

“Nothing, I just had a stupid quarrel with Serch” the boy lowers his gaze, staring at his hands, pulling at an invisible hangnail.

“It happens, when two people love each other” Armie smiles sweetly; he tilts his head on the side: “Come with me, I want to give you something” he starts walking towards another door. Timmy follows him in silence. They enter a room with high ceiling windows and dozens of shelves and cabinets. There is a table in the middle, a few objects on it: Armie approaches it and grabs a long leather purse, which he gives to Timmy.

“What is it?” the boy asks, burning with curiosity. He unties the short string and glances inside the purse, frowning with confusion; he pulls out a long, golden tube, with two lenses at both the ends, one bigger than the other.

“It's a telescope” Armie reveals, amused by the vision of Timmy turning the mysterious object into his hands, totally unaware of its use. “Is made to look at the stars. You need to put the smaller lens close to your eye. I'll show you” the Captain patiently explains his lover how to correctly manage the telescope. Timmy is the image of excitement and delight.

“That's incredible, Armie. I can't wait for the night to come. I've never paid attention to the stars before, I don't know why” he confesses with a light embarrassment. The Captain chuckles.

“Now you will have the tools to do it. And I want to give you a task: watch carefully at the sky every night, and find a star that is not on the maps, one has not been discovered yet. A small one. It will be our star, shining only for us, our secret. And when I come back, we will give it a name” Armie holds Timmy's hand and leans the palm on his own chest, just over his heart. “I promise you that as long as our star will keep sparkling, we will be together”

Timmy looks up at the man's face, making an effort to smile, but only achieving a feeble smirk; his eyes betray his sudden anxiety.

“It's a wonderful idea, for real, but...” he stops talking and shakes his head.

“What? You know you can tell me anything, my angel” Armie pinches the boy's chin and lifts his face to resume the eye contact. Timmy sighs.

“I don't know, I just have this strange feeling, like a compression on my chest, since we came back from our holiday. I'm scared for no reason” he tries to put his emotions in words, wishing that Armie will not laugh at him for being so silly. The Captain hugs him (he still has the bandage, so he uses just one arm).

“My precious, beautiful angel” he praises his lover, kissing his cheek and his neck. He presses his lips on Timmy's, waiting for the boy to deepen the kiss, but he doesn't. Armie gets the hint and untwines the embrace, seeming worried.

“I'm sorry, please don't hate me” Timmy begs, clenching his fists on the fabric of the man's shirt.

“How could I ever hate you? You are the reason why my heart is still beating” Armie murmurs, staring at the boy with a warm gaze full of fondness. Full of love. Timmy holds him tight, stoically fighting with himself to keep the tears at bay. _Please, please don't go, don't leave me!_ he wants to scream, but he wouldn't change the current situation, so what would be the point? He just needs to face reality and learn how to go on with his life without Armie, at least for a while. It won't be forever, it's just a few months. He can do it, he will survive. He will be fine.

“I should go now. I sneaked out of my house without telling anyone where I was going, and I will be in trouble if I get caught” Timmy giggles, blushing at how much what he just said sounds childish and silly. Armie kisses the top of his head.

“Alright, young troublemaker” the Captain jokes, releasing the boy from his grip, “Come back as soon as you want. I'll be here” he promises. They reluctantly say goodbye.

The following morning, when Timothée goes downstairs for breakfast at 10, his father gives him a note.

“This one came for you yesterday night. It was quite late, I didn't want to wake you up, so I kept it here” Marc informs his son, delivering the note to him.

“Thank you, _papa_ ” Timmy replies and goes outside to read it in private. His heart is already pounding, because there is only one person who could write him a note in the middle of the night.

_My angel, I'm afraid I have bad news. The ship that was supposed to take me to Jamaica has changed its plans: it will now leave from London's harbour in two days, which means I have to be on my way tomorrow morning before noon. I hope this note reaches you in time for me to see you one last time, but if not, I just want to say goodbye. Take care of yourself and your family, and don't neglect your task: find that star for us. With all my heart, Captain A.H._

Timmy stares at the note, his hands shaking, his eyes wide, heart slowing down abruptly, almost stopping. He reads the words on the paper again once, twice, with the irrational hope that he misunderstood them, that they may have a different meaning. They don't, though, so the boy just remains there, paralyzed, blood freezing under his skin. His brain is grinding thousands of concepts any second, but his body is totally still, like a marble statue. Minutes go on, or maybe hours, before he finally reacts: he suddenly runs outside and heads to the back of the estate.

“Andrews! Andrews, I need the carriage, now!” he shouts to their coachman, who was grooming Hephaestion as every morning. The man looks puzzled.

“Good morning, Sir, I...” he tries to speak, but the young Lord cuts him immediately.

“I have to go to Pembroke Hall, right now!” he commands, high pitched voice, nerves on fire; he could really kill someone with bare hands in that very moment. The poor man can't do anything else but give up his previous work and set the carriage as quick as possible. After what seems like an eternity, Timmy's carriage crosses the gate of Pembroke and stops in the forecourt: the boy sprints out and knocks at the main door so hard that his knuckles are bleeding. The butler opens the door and tries to say something, but Timmy moves him aside without any care and runs frantically across the living room, the hallway, the library, up the stairs, into the bedrooms. There is no sign of Armie, or his trunks. The only people he meets are the housemaids.

“No, no no no!” he cries, falling on his knees, bending until his forehead touches the floor. He desperately sobs, wetting the carpet with his tears and his spit.

“Timy! Oh no, little bean” Danitza's voice fills the bedroom: she crouches next to him and holds his trembling body. Timmy curls into her lap like a lamb.

“He's gone! He's gone, Danitza, and I didn't even have the chance to tell him how much I love him” he bawls, not remotely concerned about being heard by the household. The cook pets his hair and cuddles him.

“No need. He know” she reassures the boy. Timmy continues weeping for a while, and Danitza keeps lulling him and telling him sweet words in her native language. When he finally calms down, she wipes his tears away with her handkerchief, and places a smooch on his cheek, leaving a red mark. Timmy giggles and sniffs loudly.

“Thank you” he just says to the woman.

“Come, I make new cake today, I need opinion” the cook helps him to his feet and invites the boy to follow her into the kitchen.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again T_T


	9. A letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie writes a letter to Timmy. Timmy writes him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Quick update, I still have no clue about how many chapters are still to come, really, this story is basically writing itself day by day, next one could be the last chap or they will be 40, I just do not know... A little fact before you read: in 1800, a journey with a ship from London to Jamaica lasted a minimum of 5 weeks, if the ship was fast and the sea was calm, so it took the same amount of time for a letter to travel the same route. No WhatsApp yet for our birdies in love! ;) Enjoy the reading and, uhm, yes.

Chapter 9: a letter

_Montego Bay, Jamaica_

_21_ _st_ _of June, 1838_

_My angel,_

_I hope this letter finds you and your family well. I'm very sorry I couldn't say goodbye properly to you before I left England, I guess you only read the note in the late morning, when I was already travelling towards the capital. Please, don't feel sad and don't blame yourself or anyone else for this. It was just a case of bad luck and unfortunate timing. As for myself, my ship docked this morning at the Montego Bay harbour, and the very first thing I did as soon as my foot touched the ground was looking for a piece of paper and a pencil to write to you this brief letter, to inform you that I'm perfectly healthy, I think about you every minute and if everything goes as I planned, I should be able to come back home by the half of December, right on time for your birthday. The apartment I've been assigned is small, but comfortable enough for me and a couple of housemaids. The weather is astonishingly sunny and warm, you would love it. The sea journey was supposed to last five weeks, but there was a major storm a few days after we sailed so the ship had to seek for a makeshift shelter in a tiny harbour in the south of Portugal, prolonging our trip by another week. If you wish to write me back, the address is on the envelope. I'll wait for any letter you will be able to send. Of course you can go to Pembroke every time you want, even if I'm not there, and you can take all the books you want from the library. What is mine, is yours too. Give my warmest regards to your parents and your cousin, I hope you and Miss Ronan have sort out your quarrel. Take care of yourself._

_With all my heart, Captain A.H._

_\---_

_Sholden, England_

_18_ _th_ _of July, 1838_

_Dear Armie,_

_I can't even find the words to express how much joy I felt when I received your letter this morning! I literally screamed and immediately ran into my room to reply to you. My mother was quite baffled by my behavior, and tried to pry, but I told her it was a matter of the utmost importance and I didn't have to be interrupted for whatsoever reason. I lay in bed holding your letter on my chest for about one hour, imagining you on the ship in the middle of the storm, reassuring the other passengers and telling them everything was going to be fine with your soothing voice, that same voice I love so much! And then I imagined the sky of Jamaica, the harbour, your apartment... oh Armie, how I wish I was there, with you, in this moment! I miss you so much, sometimes even breathing is a torment. These last few weeks have been a living hell: my father is starting talking about my birthday party and he wants to invite every man in the county who has a suitable daughter, and we both know what does it mean, don't we? I feel sick at the simple thought of it, please come back soon. Me and Saoirse are best friends again, she came into my room the night after you left, I was crying in bed, she didn't ask why, just hugged me tight and said she was there for me, if I wanted to talk. And I did, I told her everything, Armie: I told her we are in love, I told her about our vow in the church and about the duel. I was sure she would have been appalled, or scandalized, instead she smiled and said she knew the whole time, since you sent doctor Wilson when I had the fever. I asked her if she thought it was possible for two men to fall in love with each other, and she just replied these exact words “I think when two people fall in love, it's their souls that recognize each other after they met in previous lives, but in different bodies. They were just waiting to find one another again, and be together once more”. My heart has barely survived the beauty of these words, and I realized the depth of my love for you even better, and how much I miss you now, especially when I remembered our last kiss. How stupid I was, giving up the chance to kiss you properly! If only I knew that it would have been our last one... I wish I could turn back time and be with you on the beach like we used to be, spending the day doing nothing but listening to the soft crushing of the waves and the chirping of the seagulls, and then going to our cave and kiss you until we are both breathless. Please, tell me we will do it again, tell me we will kiss again, we will be together for good. I can't even imagine my life without you in it, it's so absurd and inconceivable, like a perpetual night without stars. Oh, right, I started looking at the sky every night, but finding a star which is not on the maps is turning out harder than I thought! Every time I see the perfect one, I check the astrology book I found in my father's library and the star is already there, with its name and the picture of the man who discovered it. It's quite frustrating, but I don't want to give up, I'll find our star because you asked me to, because you want me to, because it will make you happy, and there is nothing else in this world I want more than making you happy, my love. I think about you every minute, every second. I feel so lonely right now, even the french classes and the fencing training can't bring my mind to focus on anything else but you, your voice still in my ears, your eyes looking at me right into my very soul. I think something happened between Saoirse and your friend Karan, because she's not taking fencing classes anymore, and Karan looks sad. Maybe she got bored and he took offence? He is a very good trainer, in my opinion. Oh I'm keeping you from your work with my useless babbling! Forgive me, I just miss you so much, but I probably already said that. Please take care of yourself, I hope your arm is completely healed now. I love you, I will always love you._

_Yours, Timothée_

_\---_

_Montego Bay, Jamaica_

_25 th of August, 1838_

_My angel,_

_feel free to babble as much as you want, I will be the happiest man on earth while reading your words, whatever they will be. I miss you too, you don't even know how much, it's like someone ripped my flesh apart and took away my heart, my lungs, everything. You are my everything, my precious treasure, my rare emerald. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I swear I can feel your body pressed against mine under the sheet, the scent of your hair, the soft noise of your light breathing, and I'm happy for a few seconds, but then I remember where I am, and that you are so far from me, on the other side of the immense ocean... you mean so much to me, Timothée. I wish I was able to express my feelings better, I wish I was like Lord Byron, who could paint with words. Or like Caravaggio, who could play with shadows and lights to create life from colors. But I'm just a silly man, who is discovering the depths of attachment and passion and craving for the first time, and I thought that at my age I already knew enough! How fool I was! I didn't know anything, my angel, not about the things that matter. Please, don't feel lonely anymore, keep taking care of your family and your education. Study your plants, breed your butterflies, find our star. I know you can do everything, I know your worth._

_With all my heart, Captain A.H._

_\---_

_Sholden, England_

_17 th of September, 1838_

_Armie, oh Armie! My love, my only reason for living! Your last letter almost made my heart explode with joy and emotion and hope. I wish I was a poet too, so I could find better words to tell you what you mean to me, or a scientist, so I could invent a machine to take me to you in a matter of minutes, to be into your arms again, to feel your lips kissing mine, to have your hands all over my skin once more... I dream about you every night, my knight in shining armor, who comes back and faces my father and tells him we love each other and we will live together, despite what he thinks it's better for me. Oh Armie, some days ago he said he wanted to talk to me, so we sat in the patio and he started explain to me what are the duties of a husband towards his wife, and what happens during the wedding night. I felt so sick, I just wanted to cover my ears with my palms and scream to cover the sound of his voice! It was horrible, I can't believe people actually do these things. And he told me the only purpose of marriage is to have children, I always thought that the purpose of marriage was to spend the rest of your life with the person you love. I'm so confused now, my love, I need you to tell me what is true. Please, come back to me. I am nothing that a feather blown away by the wind, and I'm so scared right now. I don't want to get married, I don't want a wife. I want YOU, only you. I want to wake up with you by my side, I want to walk with you in the streets of London or Paris or Moscow, holding hands in public, without any fear of being seen. I want to go back to our tiny church and take the vow again. I want to follow you around the world, and I want you to teach me everything you know. I want to fell asleep into your embrace every night, after we made each other happy as we know. I'm yours, Armie. My heart is yours to guard or to break, as you wish. My body is yours to please you in every way you desire. My soul is yours, and our souls will find each other over and over again in every life we will live after this one. I will find you, always. And I'll find our star, I promise. There has been a little turmoil in our house lately, since apparently Karan proposed to Saoirse and she refused him, and now Maman doesn't speak to her anymore because she says that a woman should never waste a chance to ~~entrap~~ marry a good man, even if his income is barely enough to buy an estate with five bedrooms. So now our meals are quite awkward, with my father trying to make conversation, Maman only talking about her friends' daughters and their splendid weddings, Saoirse staring at the table and me thinking about you and desperately holding my tears back. Sometimes I just want to take all my clothes and my notebooks and move to Pembroke to live with Danitza, at least she cares about me and listens to me when I talk (and gives me awesome food). I wonder how Maman will react when she will find out Saoirse has a secret agreement with Monsieur Garrel, our french teacher, who is even less wealthy than your friend Karan! She will faint for sure. Oh, this does not suppose to be funny, I feel vicious for giggling right now, please Armie don't judge me for making fun of my own relatives. I love them but sometimes they are just so over dramatic! Why can't Saoirse marry the man she loves? He is such a good man, he just doesn't have any connection in the high society. If only he had a friend, an important and rich friend, by his side... you know I have never asked you for anything, but my cousin's happiness is my most urgent concern in this moment, so I was wondering if you could, since you and my father are very close, write to him to put in a word for Louis, just to say he is an honest, respectable gentleman, which is true, because I know him, and you know I can't lie. It would make me very, very happy, my love, and it would make me feel you closer to me, in a way, so your absence would be more tolerable. I wish this last three months could pass in a minute, so you will be with me again, and I with you. I love you, you are the sun and I am a sunflower, I will always follow you, and your beams will warm me for ever._

_Yours, Timothée._

_\---_

_Montego Bay, Jamaica_

_26 th of October, 1838_

_My angel,_

_I absolutely had no clue about Karan's intentions towards Miss Ronan, or I would have told you about it. I hope you believe me. If Miss Ronan has a previous agreement with another gentleman, she made the right decision when she refused Karan, even if I can imagine it must have been really disappointing for him. He is an hopelessly romantic soul and always falls in love very easily, since I've known him he has wooed women who were too much above him, just because he believes in the truth of the heart. I'm aware of the close bond between you and your cousin, and I will be very happy to endorse her connection with your french teacher, but before writing to your father I would like to meet the man, Louis, just to get to know him a little, so I can write my plea and make it sound real. Of course I believe you when you say he is a good man, but what am I suppose to reply to your father, should he ask me the reason of my sudden interest in Miss Ronan's marital status? It would be quite strange, to say the least. I shall be glad to meet Louis as soon as I come back to England. It's only two months left, my darling, and then we will be reunited. I can't wait to hold you tight in my arms, tighter than I ever held you, and kiss you for hours and hours until our lips are worn out and swollen, our bodies on fire, shivering with trepidation, our limbs entwined like snakes fighting for dear life... sorry, forgive me, I don't want to upset you with these words, it must be the high temperatures of this place. Or maybe the odd liquor one of my investors just offered me is to blame, but I suddenly feel very warm and dizzy. I think I'll go to lie down for a while. I'm sure I will dream about you, my angel._

_1 st of November, 1838_

_My precious, please don't be alarmed, but the heat I felt a few days ago turned out to be a fever, it's nothing to worry about, I just need some rest. Everything will be fine, the doctor is coming to visit me in a couple of hours. He will give me some disgusting concoction and I will be up on my feet in a day or two. You know I'm a tough man. I need to be strong so I can come back to you soon. I can't stop thinking about your smile, and the freckle on the corner of your lips. I can't wait to kiss that freckle again, and every other freckle I will find on your body._

_8 th of November, 1838_

_Timothée, the doctor came to visit me today and said that I have an infection going on, something which goes beyond his knowledges, so he advised me to go back to England to seek for a better medical treatment, since the fever seems to get stronger every passing day. My ship will sail tomorrow morning at sunrise, it will be a long journey, five weeks at least, and I feel quite weak. If I should be already dead when the ship docks at London, please would you do me a couple of favors? In the library in my estate there is a desk, go to the last drawer, you should find a yellow envelope: take it and bring it to my lawyer, his name is James Pascoe, he has his office in Walmer, the address is on the envelope. Please, don't give the envelope to anybody else, not even your parents! You are the only person I trust in the entire world. I know you will sort it out. You're the smartest young man in the whole Kingdom. Another favor I ask you is to take Danitza with you, hire her to work at Primrose, she is very fond of you and I'm sure your family will appreciate her hard work and her loyalty. I don't want her to end up working for some scoundrel who will mistreat her. I think this is it, then._

_I just realized I never told you something: I love you, Timothée, more than any poem or painting or music could ever express. The time I spent with you has been the happiest time of my life, even if shorter than we deserved. You brought joy where there was only bitterness. You brought light where there was only darkness. You made my heart beat after it had been silent and empty and still for almost an eternity. When we first met, I never expected to feel so many emotions in such a brief time, but then I grew more and more fond of you, until I was completely at your mercy. Please, don't waste more than an hour crying for me: spread your wings and fly away, wherever you want to go. Take everything you know, everything you learned, and treasure it. Don't neglect the people you love, even if sometimes they are over dramatic. Tell Miss Ronan not to torture her future husband too much. Be always faithful to who you are. Swim far from the shore. And if sometimes you should find yourself thinking about that old, grumpy Captain you used to know, smile and look at our star. I will be there, looking back at you._

_With all my heart, Captain A.H._

_\---_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry T_T   
> Do you trust me? Did I ever disappointed you so far? Please stick with me until next chapter and don't throw sharp objects at me, yet!


End file.
